Misconstrued
by NotTasha
Summary: Rodney and Zelenka investigate an Ancient structure which unfortunately collapses on them. Both are hurt. Ford feels like he can do nothing. Meanwhile, Sheppard and Teyla are stuck on the 'meet and greet' from hell.
1. Part One

SEASON: Sometime during the 1st Season - probably before "The Brotherhood"  
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay, Zelenka, Ford, Sheppard and Teyla  
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel. I own nothing.   
NOTE: As always, I don't know much about SG stuff... and science and medicine. Sorry if I got it all wrong. I don't know any Czech, although I'm half Czech. Mom wasn't any help. Forgive me if some of that isn't right.   
SUMMARY: Rodney and Zelenka investigate an Ancient structure which unfortunately collapses on them. It isn't the only thing to collapse.  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Thanks Tipper and Sable Cain for your comments, corrections, and support. And if you're looking for someone to blame, my favorite target is Tipper... but I suppose I should remember that when one points their finger at someone, three fingers point back at oneself. That, of course, is a load of crap.  
SPOILERS: small one for the Defiant One

**MISCONSTRUED - Part I** _- by NotTasha_

**CHAPTER 1 – LIKE KOLACHES **

Doctor Rodney McKay was annoyed -- annoyed by the tight quarters they were working in, annoyed by the lack of progress, annoyed the conclusions drawn by his analysis, and annoyed with analyses drawn by others. Dr. Merritt annoyed him – being too damn excited about this site, too enthusiastic about what he 'thought' he'd found, too young and full-of-himself and buoyant. Merritt's scientists annoyed him by always backing up their superior. They seemed to forget that McKay was above Merritt. Zelenka annoyed him by being pleasant and acting as a go-between to calm down both sides. Ford annoyed him by leaving the underground facility to stand guard outside. Sheppard annoyed him most of all by not being anywhere on the planet.

The Capilanos had finally agreed to open negotiations, so Sheppard and Teyla had been spirited off to a three-day 'get to know you' session with the touchy-feely people. It was only coincidence that Merritt had discovered this facility on P6M-301 at the same time that the Capilanos on P11-589 sent their invitation. _The Major should be stuck in this mess along with me,_ McKay decided. Teyla? _Well, she should be here, too._ For some reason though, McKay wasn't quite as annoyed with the Athosian as he was with the others.

Along with Weir, Teyla had an incredible skill for negotiation. Weir, of course, was needed in Atlantis, so Teyla was the most logical choice to send. It was only right that Teyla was _there_ instead of _here_. Perhaps McKay's acceptance of the situation had something more to do with the fact that she could break his arm with one of those whacking sticks if she got aggravated with him. He didn't want to tempt her.

So he spent his time being annoyed with everyone, especially himself. When Merritt announced his findings the day before – that he'd located a possible Zero Point Module manufacturing site – well, McKay had been elated! He couldn't wait to get there! He'd pressed Merritt, insisting that he be included in the team, insisted that Zelenka come, too. After all, Dr. McKay was the foremost authority on Ancient technology – and Zelenka wasn't half-bad himself. So, in the end, he had no one to blame but himself.

Yes, McKay was rather pissed off with himself.

Merritt had balked when McKay first announced his decision, coming up with excuses as to why the Canadian should stay away, insisting that McKay accompany the rest of his team to the Capilano home world, attend their little love-fest instead of coming to the ruins. Of course, McKay overruled him – but it didn't stop Merritt from going to Weir about it – telling her that it would be best to keep that team together. 

In the end, Weir agreed with McKay. He shouldn't go to P11-589. Rodney wasn't always the most agreeable person when met with such painfully pleasant people. Negotiation with tree-huggers wasn't going to be his strong point. Besides, with the amount of trouble that McKay and Sheppard stirred up when together, perhaps it was a good idea to split them up.

It had been Weir's final decision to split the team – sending Teyla and Sheppard to talk about plants… Ford and McKay were to accompany the ZPM expedition, under advisement that this was Merritt's mission. Rodney was to behave.

Merritt's excited team left Atlantis on the same day that a morose Sheppard left to his little retreat. The Major had seemed rather put out about the whole thing, stating that he'd rather put a pointed stick through his eye than to sit around singing 'koom-ba-yas' with a bunch of granola eaters for three days. The phrasing had perplexed Teyla, but once the whole granola thing had been explained, her reply had been… "But is the granola not the reason we seek their partnership?"

Atlantis had been running low on food supplies, and a good trading partnership was critical, so Sheppard went off with Teyla on this mission of peace, while McKay went on this mission of pieces with Ford, Zelenka and Merritt's team.

So far, that was all they had found so far… pieces. The promising facility had proven to be empty and broken when they reached it. Where walls and ceilings had once been festooned with bright tile, floors and counter tops were now covered with chipped and broken ceramic. Floors and walls were cracked by some violence. Equipment had been cannibalized -- technology torn down to nubs. The place was gutted.

Still, they searched, for anything that would provide them with answers concerning how to construct ZPMs – vital knowledge. But so far, they'd found little of use. The team picked up the bits of broken tile, trying to assemble them into pictograms that might tell them all the secrets.

It was after about a half hour of searching that McKay came to the conclusion that there was no way in _HELL_ anyone ever built a ZPM here.

When McKay expressed this fact to the team leader, Alvin Merritt, he'd gotten an amused expression in response, and the retort, "How would you know? Have you ever seen a ZPM manufacturing site?"

Well, no, but he'd imagined it – vividly. This place didn't fill the bill. Nothing here seemed capable of dealing with the containing of subspace-time.

And Merritt wouldn't listen to reason. No matter how McKay tried to corner the young scientist to convince him, Alvin Merritt would not back down from his beliefs. McKay tried to point out that Merritt simply wasn't paying attention, didn't know what he was talking about, wasn't even aware of the nose on his face. McKay might have used the word "simpleton" at some point.

Things didn't go very well after that. Merritt's team was decidedly aggravated. The group got snippy, and McKay snapped back.

Ford had stayed with the scientists for the first two hours as they searched through the rubble in the rooms. But, the young lieutenant soon tired of the bickering and joined the guard above ground, leaving the scientists below with Sgt. Moody, and Corporals Fairholm and Alava.

Zelenka was the only one in the group that seemed to be capable of standing being near McKay. Dr. Burnaby had taken Zelenka aside at one time, asking how in the hell the Czech put up with the Canadian. Radek had shrugged, and said philosophically, "One gets used to him. It only takes time."

The others, apparently, had no desire take that time, and left McKay alone with only Zelenka for company. And that's how it had been for the past two hours.

Radek picked up his pace as McKay let out a sigh and moved from the latest room under investigation and continued down a long hallway. "Dr. McKay," he called, catching up to the scientist. The Czech turned, looking back the way he'd come to see if anyone was nearby. Finding no one about, he asked in a quiet voice, "This is fruitless, isn't it?"

McKay grimaced. "There's nothing here!" he groused as he shone the light into another destroyed room. "If there had been anything here of use, it's long gone." Shaking his head, he stated, "Merritt should have known that from the moment he first laid eyes on the place. It's pointless! He makes up stories." Rodney pointed the light upward as he searched, noting an ornate archway in the hall.

Radek made a soft sound and commented, "This appears to be the last archway still in place."

"And what's up with that?" McKay asked. "What caused all this damage? We've taken readings and found no residual power signature. Not due to an explosion it would seem. Seismic activity perhaps?" McKay toed a crack that ran along the floor. "Seems possible."

With a shrug, Zelenka responded, "Yes, that seems most likely."

"No sign of recent activity," McKay added. Before Zelenka say anything else, he asked sharply, "So, what do you think of Merritt?"

With a sigh, Zelenka answered, "He is very enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic?" McKay remarked as they continued along. "He's like one of those yippy dogs." With his free hand, he demonstrated what he meant with a, "Yip yip yip!"

Two of Merritt's team stepped into the hallway as he spoke, but McKay made no attempt to halt his comments. "Really," he went on. "He should get his facts straight before he goes touting them about as truth."

Doctors Burnaby and Powell gave Rodney a dark look as they passed in the corridor, but the Canadian chose to ignore it as he maneuvered around them. Zelenka gave the scientists an apologetic smile as he passed them. "He believes in his work," he tried.

"Did you read the report he presented to Dr. Weir?"

"Yes, of course," Zelenka replied. He paused, checking to see where Burnaby and Powell went – they turned into the next room throwing annoyed glances in their direction. Snatching off his glasses, Zelenka cleaned them on his shirt, saying, "He was…passionate about his cause."

"He lied," McKay pointed out. "He claimed evidence that doesn't exist. If I were to have fully believed his reports, I would have expected to walk in here, flip a switch, and 'ta-da'… instant ZPM."

Zelenka looked thoughtful as he rubbed at the lenses. " Maybe he … drew conclusions that were a little…"

"Outlandish? Overzealous? Over the top? Out in left field?"

"I was going to say, 'optimistic'"

"He has no idea. None whatsoever!" McKay directed the light into another room. They'd checked it earlier and found it less damaged than some of the others. The tile was still mostly in place, but aside from the alcoves along the wall, it was utterly featureless. "Just our luck," McKay muttered. "One room undamaged and not a bit of information to be found there."

"Do you think there's a reason that?" Zelenka asked.

With a snotty expression, McKay said, "Of course!" He puzzled a moment, as he tried to come up with an explanation. "But I can't come up with anything just yet. Give me time, though, and I'm certain to come up with something."

"I have no doubts," Zelenka responded. "Whether the explanation will prove correct or not is another matter."

Rodney responded with a harrumph, then continued, "If nothing else, we can use the space to store the trash from the other rooms." He made a face, looking like a child about to have a tantrum. "Oh! We'll be here for days! Sheppard will probably be back before we're even halfway through this mess." And he scowled in irritation. "And all for nothing."

With a shrug, Zelenka finished his cleaning and pushed the frames onto his nose. "We may yet discover something of interest," he declared, following McKay as he continued to the deepest part of the facility.

Rodney snorted, as he pointed the light into another room. "Yeah, and monkeys might fly out my…"

Zelenka waited a moment for the sentence to complete but, when McKay said nothing more, he turned his light into the room as well. "Ah," Radek stated as he noted the panel illuminated by McKay's light. "You were saying something about monkeys?" It looked plain enough to an untrained eye, but something had caught Rodney's attention – and with that, Radek became aware of what had enticed the man. "Monkeys flying from…."

"Quiet!" McKay growled. "Do you have any idea what this is?" He dove into the room, kicking away the broken tiles that covered the floor.

"A protective panel?" Radek tried. "Used to guard, perhaps a recessed Ancient device?"

McKay opened his mouth, as if to correct Zelenka, but then snapped it shut when he realized what the Czech had said. "Yes, it's a panel protecting a recessed Ancient device." He touched the smooth service carefully, feeling about for the secret to open it. "It has to be," he muttered.

"There has to be a release somewhere," McKay decided. Tired of fumbling with the flashlight, he turned it off and shoved it into his pocket, letting Zelenka's illuminate the area. "Somewhere," McKay said again running his fingers along the 'cookie sheet' sized panel.

"Hey!" a voice called from behind them. Zelenka turned, but Rodney didn't – too occupied with his current task to care. "You found something!" Alvin Merritt stepped into the room, looking as excited as a child at the circus. "Why didn't you report it?"

"Because we just located it," McKay snipped, "and haven't had a chance to properly investigate the finding."

"You should have called me immediately," Alvin told him. "Do I have to remind you again that this is my mission? You're just along to help out." And he smiled, lording in this position.

"Funny, you hadn't mentioned that before," McKay replied, looking thoroughly exasperated as Alvin squeezed is his way close and started messing about with the panel, too. The young scientist shoved McKay to the side with his hip. With a disgusted sigh, McKay stepped back and slung the pack from shoulder. As Merritt fiddled with the panel, McKay retrieved his scanner.

"This is fantastic!" Merritt said breathlessly. "I bet we find a hidden database here! Oh, imagine it! The instructions on how to build out own ZPMs! We'd have an endless energy source at our fingertips."

"Yes, well," McKay muttered, fiddling with his device. "I'm sure that's all it takes. Don't worry about finding the equipment needed to harness the vacuum energy derived from a self-contained region of sub-space time."

"This is going to show us how to build what we need," Merritt insisted. "Have some faith, McKay."

McKay looked unmoved. "Sure. One quick glance at a Betty Crocker recipe and we'll be popping out ZPMs like kolaches."

Radek laughed at the reference. "_Kolá¼._ If only," he said wistfully, remembering that special treat.

With a click of the tongue, McKay stated, "I show no power source."

"It's powered down, of course," Merritt told him snottily. "After all these years, even a ZPM manufacturing facility would run out of power." And he laughed, joyfully.

"Hmm," McKay responded, and added, "Somehow, I imagined this work would be done on an orbital platform. Not underground on some backwater planet."

"It's the perfect place," Merritt insisted, still fluttering his hands around the panel without success. "You just have no imagination."

McKay watched Merritt for a moment longer, wondering if he should say something. He glanced to Zelenka who had also stepped back, still holding a flashlight to the scene. Finally, with a sigh, McKay suggested. "Try pressing on the corners."

Merritt threw him an unpleasant expression, but tried what McKay suggested, and the panel snapped off. McKay gave Zelenka a self-satisfied grin, and the Czech could only respond with a shake of the head, knowing that the Canadian had scored another one.

Merritt stepped back, bumping into McKay as he looked in wonder at what was exposed to them.

"Obviously ancient technology," Alvin breathed out excitedly.

"Obviously," McKay snapped back, tired of everyone having to express 'the obvious'. As if any of them wouldn't have instantly recognized the origins of the mechanism. Recessed behind the panel, was some sort of control device: a dim monitor, buttons, a series of crystals.

With a gleeful expression, Merritt reached forward, running one finger along the embossed symbols. "It says that it's some sort of regulating system," Merritt stated, sweating with excitement. "Obviously used to adjust the speed at which the subspace/time region is accessed."

"Obviously?" McKay growled out, "Not so much. You're talking nonsense. This may have been used to regulate the humidity levels in the facility, or the water flow… or the septic system." He sighed. "In fact, it doesn't say anything about being a 'regulator system'… simply that this control regulates… something."

"Look," Merritt responded. "This data pad… this display. It has to be about powering ZPMs! It all makes sense. It was a device to control the access to —"

"You really aren't paying any attention to what I'm saying, are you?" McKay sniped back. "Because I am speaking quite distinctly. Do I need to slow down?" He looked to Zelenka for confirmation. "You can understand me, can't you?" When the Czech nodded thoughtfully in response, McKay continued, "See, even HE can comprehend and I'm not speaking in his native tongue. I can switch to French if that would help. Russian? I know speaking in Ancient won't work in your case."

"You're obnoxious," Alvin told McKay.

"Again," Rodney said with a sigh, "You're stating the obvious. Do you want to know what I think…?"

"It doesn't matter what you think," Merritt said in a clipped tone. "You're always trying to discredit me and my theories. I'm getting this out of here, bringing it back to Atlantis and prove to everyone that I know more than the great Dr. Rodney McKay, Genius." And he paused, reveling in the idea of what it would be like to bring back such a find, being the one to figure it out first! "I'll study it back in _MY_ lab and be able to claim any distinctions that come from this."

Grumbling, McKay returned, "Take the distinctions. This probably is little more than a toilet flushing system."

Merritt wasn't paying any attention. "It looks like it should pull straight out. This'll be so easy."

"Nothing is easy, Merrick," Rodney responded with a sigh.

"My name's Merritt!" Alvin shot back, as he pulled off his own pack and retrieved some tools. "And, look, you can either help me with this, or I'll call in Burnaby or Powell to give me a hand." He gave Zelenka a pointed glance. "You, at least, have enough sense to see how important this is."

Zelenka shrugged, saying nothing.

"I agree that we might find some interesting information if we examine the device," McKay went on. "But it's not what you think it is."

"Let us agree," Zelenka tried, "That it is worthy of study…" and he looked between the two scientists for concurrence. "Agreeing to agree might be good."

Merritt shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not holding my breath," he commented. "Getting Dr. Rodney McKay to agree with anyone besides himself would be a monumental day in history!"

It was at that moment that a weird rumble sounded through the facility. For a moment, the three men stood stock-still, and then the ground began to roll beneath their feet. "Zemětřesení!" Radek shouted as the world shook.

A rumble sounded as the chipped, broken tile shattered and rained down on them, smashing to the floor. The walls creaked and split, the floor cracked, uplifting. Rodney, his eyes wide, dove toward the door. "Out!" he cried. At the doorway, he turned back to the others. "Come on," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Zelenka! Merritt! Now!" 

From down the hallway, he could hear the clatter of scientists frantically fleeing. Corporals Alava and Fairholm worked at ushering them out. Moody, at the entrance was helping the scientists up the narrow, shaking staircase toward the safety of outdoors. Ford, above ground, was shouting down to Moody, trying to get him to hurry them.

Zelenka went immediately to the room's doorway with McKay behind him, but Merritt was leaned over the recess, prying at the device. "Merritt!" McKay shouted. "We're getting out now!" He stormed to the man, grabbing him fiercely by the arm as the room continued to pitch.

"Not without this!" Merritt argued. "We can't let this be destroyed!"

"We're not going to die over it!" McKay shot back, hunching his head into his shoulders

His face red, Merritt contended, "If it has ANY significance regarding ZPMs, it's worth the chance! I'm not leaving here without it! I, at least, can understand that some things are worth the risk!"

The ground hopped and leapt beneath them, as disconcerting as hell because the ground wasn't supposed to do something like that. The remaining tiles kept popping, shattering. The earthen blocks started to crumble. The place was going to pieces.

"You can't be serious," McKay returned, looking up fearfully. "This isn't worth it!"

"I'll die before I abandon it!" Merritt responded, glaring at McKay. "And, God help me, I won't let you stop me."

McKay tottered, turning toward the exit, then back to Merritt. Finally, with a groan of disgust, he ordered Zelenka, "Get out! Make sure everyone gets out." And he moved back to Merritt who was still working to free the Ancient technology from the wall before the whole place came down on them. "You don't know what the hell you're doing," McKay yelled at Merritt. "Press here! Look, if you keep doing that you'll break the damn thing!"

Zelenka didn't move, watching the others pry at the device, trying to force it from its hiding place. Radek flinched as a bit of tile caught him on the shoulder, letting out a startled "Ah!" and jumping back.

"Radek! NOW!" McKay demanded, not turning.

Zelenka turned, fleeing up the hallway, stopping at the first room and finding two of Merritt's people hastily trying to jam handfuls of tile into satchels as the room vibrated around them. Alava stood nearby, looking thoroughly disgusted as he gripped his P90 and watched the walls shake. "Get your asses out of here," he growled. "I swear, I'll drag you out by your freakin' hair if you don't start moving!"

"Spěchat!" Zelenka shouted, as he clung to the still shaking doorway. "Get out, now!"

"Yeah," Alava agreed. "Move your goddamn asses!"

The scientists seemed to realize this was good advice and they hoisted the bags to their shoulders. They stumbled toward the doorway with a relieved Alava behind them. The soldier looked as annoyed as hell when the pair of scientists came to a dead halt at the doorway, as the dust continued to come down.

"Dr. Merritt?" Burnaby asked frantically, "Did he get out?"

With a jerk of his head, Zelenka indicated the far room. "He is coming as soon as he frees the device," Radek explained, breathlessly. His eyes darted back to the room as he leaned against one wall. Another tile struck him and he jumped back. Quickly, he explained, "Dr. McKay found a device. Merritt must remove it before he can leave. They can not leave without it."

From further down the hall, they could hear McKay shouting, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Look, I told you to press there! If you bend the casing… forget it… I'll fix it later. Get it out, now! Damn it, you idiot, just pull it!"

The shaking quieted, the creaking and moaning faded, but the loose tiling continued to crack and fall, smashing to the floor around them. The rumble reduced and the world stilled. Within seconds, everything went back to normal, with almost an audible sigh.

They could hear McKay still, "Oh, thank God… thank God… it's over. Now, stop messing around and get the damn thing out of here."

Burnaby furrowed his brow and gave Powell a disquieted look. The two made a move to follow the voice.

"No!" Alava demanded, blocking their way as dust sifted down on them like snow. "Out… now! I'm not going to die here because of goddamn scientists in a snit."

At the exit, Ford shouted from above, "Dr. Zelenka, is everyone okay?"

"Yes, yes!" Zelenka responded. "We are coming out!"

"What's going on?" Ford called down. "Get them up here!"

Shaking his head, Zelenka said under his breath, "That's what I'm trying to do."

Alava gave Burnaby a shove toward the door. "Get moving!" he ordered.

"Radek!" McKay shouted from further in. "Get down here. Merritt's worthless! Ah! The idiot can't get his arms around it." And before Alava could stop him, Zelenka ran toward the back of the complex.

The room was full of filtering dust, and Zelenka coughed against it as the flashlight beam tried to cut through the heaviness. McKay and Merritt, working under the illumination of Merritt's flashlight on the floor, had managed to heave the microwave-sided device from its hole in the wall. Merritt was trying to hang onto it, while McKay, halfway in the hole, was working at detaching the wiring. Zelenka reached Merritt in time to save the man from dropping it.

"I got it!" Merritt crowed happily, his hair coated in dust, making him look old beyond his years. "Oh, God, this is tremendous! This is the answer to everything I've searched for! Atlantis will come alive due to my findings."

"Right, right," McKay grumbled, "It's all you." He straightened and shook his head. "It's free. Now let's get the hell out of here! Before another earthquake hits."

McKay looked terrified, ready to bolt, but Merritt looked as happy as a pig in slops. "We can't leave now!" he demanded. "This is just the start! Think of what else we can find! The earthquake is over. I'm going to keep looking."

Annoyed, McKay grabbed hold of the device, wrenched it away from Merritt, and shoved it toward Zelenka. The thing was more awkward than heavy, and Radek managed to handle it without much difficulty, even keeping a grip on his flashlight that shone rather feebly from its new position beneath the device.

"We're leaving… now!" McKay growled, giving Merritt a shove toward the door.

"We're staying until we rescue all the technology!" Merritt shot back. "This is only the first! Certainly there is more to find."

McKay decided, "The thing would have been safe if we just left it in the wall! We're getting out," and he shoved Merritt again, pressing him through the doorway and into the hall.

"Oh, you can't do that," Merritt griped, trying to get around the Canadian, but McKay shoved him again, hard, forcing him up the hallway and toward the light.

"Doctor McKay?" Ford's voice sounded through the hallway. "You need me to come in there?"

Frustrated, tired and still terrified, McKay shouted, "We're coming out! As soon as I can get this moron to listen to me!"

Merritt bridled against the abuse, and tried to fight against him, but McKay was determined and had gotten some momentum going. Rodney kept up the pressure, forcing Merritt along the hallway toward the door with Zelenka behind him, hefting the device and illumining their path. At the end of the long hallway, Sgt. Moody waited, looking impatient. 

"Why doesn't he come down and help us?" McKay muttered. "He's a soldier. He could carry the device if nothing else!"

"But the research! The technology!" Merritt kept up. "We can't abandon it!"

"Earthquakes tend to kill people," McKay commented.

"We're not going to die," Merritt declared.

With a frustrated sigh, McKay uttered, "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate certain death."

"All the time." Shaking his head, Merritt declared, "Look, it's already stopped. We're safe! It's over."

"There could be an aftershock," McKay insisted, continuing to hustle Merritt up the hallway.

Groaning, Merritt asked, "Why do you have to be such a goddamn coward all the time?"

McKay continued, ignoring the statement, "We should have just left it in the wall. We'd be out of here and it would probably still be intact. You know, some people never learn…" he scowled at Merritt's back. "… always listen to Rodney McKay, because Rodney McKay is always right."

Behind him, Zelenka, struggling with the device intoned, "That's not always correct. There have been times when—"

"Zelenka!" McKay groaned, turning to meet his accuser. "I really don't need that right now."

"I just wanted to clarify the point," Zelenka returned.

Merritt, freed, dusted angrily at his sleeves, and took a step toward McKay to give him a taste of his own medicine. McKay groaned, seeing Merritt's determined look, and he wished the soldier at the end of the hall would help them. And the shaking began again.

Panicked, McKay turned, grabbed hold of Merritt and propelled him toward the door. The man, facing McKay, was forced to stumble backward. "Get out!" Rodney shouted, his eyes wide with panic. "Now, dammit!"

Merritt back-stepped, trying to catch his balance on the churning wall.

It was at that moment that the last existing archway in the facility came down in a thudding, crashing cascade of rock, directly over Alvin Merritt's head.

"Alvin!" McKay shouted, shoving one hand toward the man and jerking it out of the way as the heavy stone rained down. Alvin had only a moment to look frightened, and to pointlessly throw his arms over his head.

Horrifyingly, the falling rocks smashed the man to the floor, turning tender flesh into pulp, shattering what had once been a man. "Oh God… oh God…" Rodney sputtered, as the ceiling continued to fall, all along the hallway. He had only an instant to catch sight of the solider coming toward them – and the man disappeared in the dust and the rubble.

The Czech kept his gaze where Merritt had fallen. Zelenka could say nothing, panting with his terror, still clutching the clumsy device to his chest, with one hand awkwardly holding onto their only light source.

Merritt…and the solider…gone? The world still shook. He hardly realized that McKay had latched onto him and was pulling him backward.

"Come on!" Rodney called as the rumbling continued, as the ceiling continued to come down. All around them, huge chunks of bricks were falling.

Zelenka stumbled where Rodney propelled him. The heavy dust coated his glasses, blinding him. He could only hold onto the device and trust that McKay knew what to do.

--------------------  
TBC - yeah, they're all shook up


	2. Part Two

**MISCONSTRUED Part II** _- by NotTasha_

_A/N: Thank you kindly for all your wonderful feedback. I appreciate it so much. There is a slight reference to one of my earlier stories here, "Warm and Safe and Dry", but don't worry about it too much._

**CHAPTER 2: LIKE THE OCEAN**

Lt. Aiden Ford was bored. He'd pulled the short straw, and he knew it. Somewhere, on another planet, his CO was spending a three-day vacation among the Capilanos, enjoying a quiet long weekend with nothing to do besides relax and enjoy the hospitality of the fine farmers of P11-589.

He yawned as he glanced across to Private Deroche, who seemed about as bored as he was, and Private Richmond, who was ever on the alert. At least, he'd managed to get out of the underground facility, where Merritt and McKay were in one endless pissing match. The problem with brainiacs, Aiden decided, was that they didn't just get it all over with and throw a punch. No, it all had to be banged out with theories and conjectures and hidden agendas.

Ford was glad to have gotten free of it. Now, he waited with Richmond and Deroche, wondering when Moody and the rest would demand relief. Everything was so incredibly dull -- dull dull dull. It reminded him of when he was a kid and his grandfather would take him to the library. The man would spend hours among the stacks, leaving young Aiden to find something, anything of interest. Grandpa would have been so proud if Aiden had become a 'bookish' kid, but he never really found the joy of reading -- or waiting for that matter.

Waiting for Ford was like so torture. He suffered through it and hoped for some excitement –- any kind of excitement. He'd become so complacent with the stillness that, when the earth started moving beneath his feet, he didn't know what to do at first.

"What the hell," he muttered, looking toward the others to see if they felt the tremble, too. Deroche and Richmond reacted, looking about wildly and holding their weapons ready. The tremble became more pronounced and soon the earth was rolling like the ocean.

Ford stumbled to the entrance to the complex. "McKay!" he shouted, leaning into the hole.

Moody shoved his pudgy face toward him from the bottom of the stairs, shouting, "Sir, it's an earthquake!"

Ford ordered him to stay put and help the scientists get out. Moody complied without any difficulty, seeming almost to enjoy the situation.

Then the beige-wearing crew started flowing out. Stumbling, losing their balance on the jouncing stairwell, they emerged. Ford and Richmond grabbed them, drawing them out as Moody and Fairholm shoved from below, keeping them moving. The world continued to shake, and Ford shouted down, "Hurry it up! Let's get them out of there!"

The civilians were bloody, cut from falling tiles, hugging arms close to themselves, protecting their precious gear and recovered artifacts as they came into the daylight.

With every arm that grasped his, Ford hoped to find McKay or even Zelenka. Certainly the two of them were smart enough to head to the exit! But he kept hauling the civilians out, without catching sight of his teammate or the Czech.

Fairholm came up the steps, supporting one of the civilians, Dr. Stanley, a woman who might have been pretty if she ever smiled. The woman's head was bleeding and she whimpered pathetically.

Deroche, a medic, was checking out the evacuated, assessing injuries, counting noses, trying to steady the tottering group. "We're still missing five of the civilians!" he called when the immediate flood stopped.

"Alava has two of them, Burnaby and Powell," Moody shouted up, as the rumbling stopped. He stood beneath them, hands on his hips, looking sure and secure despite the situation. "Wait, he's got one more…that Czech."

Although Ford was relieved to hear that Radek was still moving, McKay hadn't made an appearance yet! Ford shouted down, "Dr. Zelenka, is everyone okay?"

"Yes, yes!" Zelenka responded. "We are coming out!"

"What's going on?" Ford called down. "Get them up here!" Damn it! Of course, of course, McKay would be among the last ones out. The man had no sense! Sure, he had a strong survival instinct, but he also tended to get too damn focused on what he was doing and probably didn't realize that the world was going to pieces around him. The Major would be pissed when he found out about all of this.

The quaking had stopped. Everything would have been quiet and still, if not for the excited, frightened nattering of the scientists. Fairholm was talking to Stanley, trying to get her to answer questions, but she seemed too stunned to respond. Deroche was doing what he could to help the others, but the scientists were putting up a tremendous fuss. Richmond was wary. Alava suddenly emerged, shoving two more scientists before him. These civilians looked more annoyed that frightened.

They waited. Moody stood at the bottom of the stairway, ready to escort the final three civilians out. Below, within the facility, they could hear McKay arguing with Merritt… no surprise there. Minutes passed. The voices came closer.

"They're coming," Moody announced. "Taking their damn time, too." The sergeant smiled. "Merritt doesn't look very happy. Looks like McKay's knocking the crap out of him." He laughed. "Looks like McKay took Merritt's toys away."

Ford had had enough. Leaning over the edge, he called, "Doctor McKay? You need me to come in there?"

The response came, "We're coming out! As soon as I can get this moron to listen to me!"

Around him, Merritt's people grumbled unhappily. The voices could still be heard, angry and confrontational. More time passed as they waited. This was taking too damn long. Ford nodded to Moody. "Go get them," he ordered.

The sergeant nodded, gave a carefree grin and stepped forward. The earth started to shake again.

"Now, Moody!" Ford shouted. The soldier didn't wait. He jogged into the underground hallway, as Ford prepared to jump down after him.

But, before Aiden could move, the chamber roared and filled with dust clouds. Choking, Ford rolled away from the entrance. The dust continued to belch out as the ceiling collapsed, coming down into the hallway where Moody had disappeared.

Shocked, Aiden jumped to his feet and let out a shout of frustration and grief as the man he'd ordered forward was consumed in the chaos of the collapse.

**CHAPTER 3: LIKE DRUNKEN HILLBILLIES**

Major John Sheppard was tired. From the moment he stepped onto the Capilanos' home world, they had assaulted him. They'd wanted to hug him in greeting – not a quick little "Hi, glad to meet ya," sort of an embrace, but a bone-crushing "Squash you like a grape" type of mauling. They wanted to hold his hands whenever they spoke, to invade his personal space, to be near him – far too near him. It was a battle to maintain any distance.

John was never the typed that liked -- hugging.

They looked like whipped puppies any time Sheppard tried to get himself disentangled from them. Teyla, of course, was the voice of reason. Yes, she was always the levelheaded one, reminding him of why they were there – why it was important to develop a strong tie with the Capilanos. Honestly, Sheppard would rather hog tie the lot of them and leave.

_No hugging -- no hugging._

Teyla took it much better than he did –- more familiar with the habits of the people – she seemed mostly amused by their behavior. They loved her. One young woman, Lillooet, seemed fascinated with her hair, and wouldn't leave Teyla's side. "Is it real?" the young Capilano kept asking. "I've never seen hair quite like it before." And Teyla would smile under her scrutiny.

These people harvested grain, honey, fruit, and vegetables. John Sheppard was determined that Atlantis would be the beneficiary of anything these people desired to barter. He just had to keep up with them -- and put up with them.

Who would have thought that keeping pace with a bunch of tree-huggers would be so hard. They'd spent the first few hours hiking through the forest. Chilliwack led the way, always smiling, always singing happily. He must have decided along the way that Sheppard would be his special friend, and kept far too close for comfort, gazing warmly at him. The other Atlantians in the party also received their own special attendant. Travis looked rather aggravated as Choate, a lanky young man, draped an arm over his shoulder. Bates glowered, and had actually managed to keep many from touching him, but his own personal entourage of women kept close. Lillooet stayed near Teyla, singing the praises of her hair. Teyla glowed with pride.

The Capilanos moved quickly, in spite of their sandals and loosely wrapped clothing. What had started off as a leisurely stroll, became something closer to a forced march. The Capilanos took it as a lark. They brought their children along, swung the kids from their shoulders, danced, sang, banged on drums and cavorted.

It was times like this that Sheppard missed McKay. McKay would complain, would whine, would grouse. The pace would slow. Everyone would have to stop while the pissy scientist messed with his pack, or his scanners, or his boots – anything to delay progress. Everyone would get a little rest and they'd be off again after a few minutes of his fussing about. The system worked well for his team.

When they finally reached the ceremonial "meeting place", Sheppard was astounded to find that they'd traveled in a big circle, and returned to a place within sight of the Gate. _Damn Capilanos!_ In any case, he breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be able to get down to business, to cut the chatter, the crooning of canons, the dithering ditties, the joyful jigs and the TOUCHING.

Unfortunately, the torment had only begun. Next came the Ceremony of Friendship -- the singing of the brotherhood songs, the sisterhood songs, the 'I love my neighbor so much I could just burst' song, the mass embrace that must have lasted five minutes, then came the dancing. The dancing -- the damn dancing. They danced like drunken hillbillies (as if there were any other kinds).

_And -- God -- this was going to last for three days._

No food is worth this, Sheppard decided, jealous of McKay and Ford and how they were able to weasel out of this duty. _I should remember to be an arrogant son of a bitch the next time Weir needs someone to tend to the natives. Should remember to find something better to do._

Then the sisters, Coquitlam and Ioco came to him with arms extended, smiling sweetly, tugging him to his feet to yet another dance of friendship. He'd make McKay pay -- he decided. Ford wasn't at fault, he'd just lucked out. McKay, on the other hand, would pay.

_Three days…damn it… three days_.

**CHAPTER 4: LIKE THE TAIL OF AN OOSFITTE**

Teyla Emmagan was infuriated. She smiled every time that the cute little Capilano girl petted her head though. She smiled as they danced and as they sang, as they embraced… but in her heart, she kept wishing she had her fighting sticks with her.

She could put up with a lot of things, but the constant focus on her hair was more than she could stand. "Do you know where I might find such a wig?" Lillooet asked innocently. "Because. I would love to have one, to be more like you. I want to be more like you." The smile increased, changing to become a bit melancholy as she recalled, "It looks like the tail of a oosfitte I had when I was a child. I loved that oosfitte."

Teyla smiled, trying to hide her impatience, trying to keep from throttling the little thing, trying to keep a level head so that this partnership might advance – that they might have the food they needed to get through the year. She smiled all the brighter when Sheppard looked her way. She could read the misery in his expression and was determined to appear serene in his discomfiture.

It appeared to be working.

Another dance began, and everyone was on their feet. The sisters had pulled Major Sheppard into the fray, and a hairy young man, named Sechelt, was approaching her with a wide grin.

She'd forgotten how annoying the Capilanos could be.

**CHAPTER 5: LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS**

Dust vomited from the entrance to the underground facility. The earth gave one last violent shake and stilled. Around him, injured scientists were moaning and talking excitedly, but Ford's attention was on the entranceway that seemed to smoke like a chimney. The young man felt a horror catch him as he took it all in.

Even before the dust settled, Ford had snapped on his flashlight and was descending the stairway, with Richmond and Fairholm right behind him. The medic, Julien Deroche, stayed with the injured, and Corporal Lew Alava waited at the top of the stairway for further orders.

"Moody!" Ford shouted. "Moody!" The dust was so thick at the bottom of the stairway that he almost gagged on his voice. "Joe!"

But there was no answer. The space was silent except for the breathing of his men, the patter put up by the scientists above them, and Deroche's attempts at placating them.

The scene came clear as the dust settled, revealing Moody in the debris. Sgt. Joe Moody hadn't gotten far. He was crumpled on his stomach, one arm thrown up by his head, and rubble all around him. The once gaily-colored tile was all broken and gray in the dust. Ford squatted beside Joe, touching fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse, feeling for something that was gone. Remorseful, he looked up to Fairholm and Richmond, who returned disquieted glances. Moody's head was at a sharp angle, craned way too far to one side, crammed up against the wall where he'd fallen. There was no hope for him – yet Ford kept his hand on the man for a moment longer, waiting.

_Damn,_ Ford thought, remembering a chat he'd had with Moody during their walk to the ruins. Joe kept going on about a sailboat he'd purchased shortly before he'd been assigned to StarGate. "Best day of my life," he'd told Ford, "…the day I bought that boat. It's the only thing I miss about home, I guess. I love that boat. Not much, just a little Sunfish, but she's a dream. I took her out every day I could. Almost cried when I had to put her up. Gotta build one for Atlantis."

_Damn,_ Ford thought again. _Damn._

Finally, Alava shouted down, "What's happening? You want Deroche down there for help?"

"Sgt. Moody is dead," Ford responded bluntly as he got to his feet and brushed at his trousers. It was too late for Moody. The Sunfish would rot in his parent's backyard. There were others that needed attention now. He shone a light where the hallway once stretched, and was met with a wall of stone and rock. "Dr. McKay!" he shouted, hopelessly. "Dr. Zelenka! Dr. Merritt!" His voice echoed back at him. He tried his radio, but received no response. _Damn… damn… damn … damn… Oh God._ His heart thudded at the horrible realization that the three scientists were caught up in that mess.

"Sir," Richmond stated softy. "Do you think we should keep the ground above the complex cleared?" He moved the light up and down along the blocked passage, as if there was hope of finding a way in. "I'd think the earth above is pretty unstable right now. The ground might collapse right on top of this if we got a lot of people up there. It could come down like a house of cards."

Ford nodded tightly. "Good idea." Fairholm was crouched beside Moody, trying to straighten him out in the cramped area. Richmond kept shining the light about.

With a grim expression, Ford looked up to Alava, giving the order to keep the space above the chambers clear. He climbed the stairway again, with Richmond at his heels. A quick look at the group of scientists told him that most of the civilians had been injured in some way – bruises, broken bones, bloody wounds -- and Deroche was doing his best to tend to them. Alava was getting them moved away from the space above the tunnel, sounding irritated as hell.

"Deroche, Alava, Fairholm, stay with the civilians. Richmond, you're with me." Ford messed with his vest, his gear, getting ready. "We're getting help from Atlantis. Can't even think of shifting the rock without something to hold up the tunnel." Ford glanced down the stairway. Fairholm was still with Moody, keeping one hand on his shoulder. "Fairholm. I need you out of there before there's any further collapse. Now."

Fairholm stood slowly and exited the tunnel. "We're not just going to leave them," he said quietly.

Ford paused a moment, remembering another incident with Fairholm's team. He spoke quickly, "We need to brace up the tunnel. We need equipment, personnel. Can't just dig it out with our bare hands. We're going to get them out – but not without the right tools." Already he was itching to go -- to get to Atlantis and back with the proper help. God, it hurt to just leave… to leave knowing that his teammate and the others were caught in the collapse. _Damn, Doc -- why couldn't you have come out right away? What kind of mess did you get yourself into this time?_

Ford started moving toward the Gate, not waiting to see if Richmond was with him. He began at a quick walk, but soon was jogging – a tightness in his chest as he thought about those trapped within – maybe hurt, possibly as dead as Moody. He felt sick at that thought.

The jog became a run, as he hurried to reach the gate so that he could return as quickly as possible.

**CHAPTER 6: SQUASHED LIKE A GRAPE**

He was aware of darkness, of blackness – of pain. The air was thick with dust. He coughed, but the attempt only intensified the hurt and he was left gasping, drawing in more of the corrupted air. _Oh God… oh God…_ The action sent knives of pain all through his chest. He felt as if he'd been squashed like a grape.

Left breathless by the coughing attempt, McKay could only gasp, trying to overcome the pain that assaulted him. His chest hurt, his gut, his arm…his back… his head. He was prone, trapped, hardly able to move. It was black all around him. He could only ride through the pain and blink at the black blackness.

_What happened? Oh God… what had happened?_

The underground facility… yes… the device that had nothing to do with ZPMs… yes, he could remember that. _Earthquake… Merritt…_ and he grimaced at the memory – the memory of seeing a man driven to the ground by falling rocks – pummeled to paste before his eyes. _Oh God… Merritt…._ With another shuddering breath, he wheezed, "Sorry… sorry… so sorry…." He'd pushed Merritt forward – had placed him directly under that archway – had positioned him perfectly for that horrible end. "Sorry…" he muttered.

So he'd run… he had run away. Found the room that was built stronger than the others. That would be safe. Yes, there were alcoves in the room. He'd found one, ducked into it… covered his head like a little girl, and hoped for the best. He had to save himself.

_Zelenka…._

"Radek?" he called, bringing another cough and more pain. There was no response. "Radek?" he tried again, but his voice was like gravel, and the dust filled air wasn't helping anything. _Oh God… not Zelenka too…._

No… no…. I killed Merritt and Zelenka and that soldier, too… what was his name… Something with an 'N' maybe. I can never remember names.

I should be able to remember his name. The soldier had liked boating… I remember hearing him talk. Might be fun, someday to try it... but I never have time for things like that. It always looks like fun. Sails look so appealing against the sky. Knowing me, it would probably tip in the first sign of wind. Christ... what's the matter with you? Thinking about boats right now…

"Zelenka," he tried again, his voice coming out in strangled gasp. Oh God, it hurt to breathe. His whole chest ached with every wheeze. Where was Radek? He had to find him. He tried to move one arm, but the attempt brought only pain – it was trapped beneath the rocks. Frustrated, he felt about with his other hand and managed to reach his pocket. _Where is it? Where is it?_ His hand closed on the flashlight.

Hoping for a miracle, he flipped the switch – and allowed himself a smile as the white light illuminated the space. A curtain of dust was falling, obscuring everything. He coughed at the mere sight of the powder, and regretted the action immediately. He could barely draw in air. His mouth felt so dry. His head buzzed. He hurt… everywhere.

Angling the light around, he found himself stuck, pressed up between fallen rock and the alcove's back wall. Rubble covered him and encased one arm. The rest of the room was filled with crumbled bricks from the collapsed ceiling.

"Radek?" McKay called again. Nothing. Groping about, he tried to move the rocks, to free himself so that he could go in search of his friend. _Have to find him… can't just leave him… can't just leave him alone…if he's hurt… if he's dead… if he's dying… I can't let him be alone…._ But the attempt to leverage a particularly large stone from his arm stopped him immediately. He fell back with a frustrated breath as pain ripped through his arm, his chest, his stomach. His head swam, hurt, hammered -- it felt like his skull might crack. The buzz grew louder…. _Fuck….._

He blinked as the room darkened. The flashlight still glowed in his hand, but the light seemed to lessen. He gazed at the MagLight, frustrated that the light was on, but the dimness was closing in. _It makes no sense… Damn_, he thought_, no sense_. The blackness continued to swarm in on him and he lost his grip on the light.

_No sense at all._

**CHAPTER 7: LIKE HELL**

_This is hell,_ Sheppard decided as he managed to free himself from Coquitlam and Ioco. _Just like hell. _Sure, they were beautiful women – and they were rather sexy when they were dancing together with him. Their gowns flowed around them as they swayed to the music – but he was tired and fed up with all the merriment.

He managed to finagle his way out of the dancing pit and found a seat beside a miserable-looking Bates on a bench carved from a tree trunk. "These people are crazy, sir," Bates stated.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed. "I kinda got that impression myself."

"Crazy," Bates muttered again. "We shouldn't be trading with them. They probably have LSD in their foodstuffs."

"LSD…" Sheppard repeated with a grin, fingering the life sign detector in his pocket. "Sounds likely."

Bates snorted. "Probably shouldn't eat anything they give us. It'd make us as crazy as they are."

Sheppard shrugged, wondering if there was something to that.

Travis, looking dizzy, peeled away from Choate who was performing some sort of he-man dance that involved a great deal of flailing of arms, and spinning of his partner. Orin stumbled toward the other two and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Dipping his head in response, John indicated a spot beside him, and the auburn-haired engineer easily fell into it. "You see Teyla?" Sheppard asked him.

Travis shrugged. "Seems she slipped away a while back," he explained. "I think she managed to escape."

"Bet she high-tailed it out of here," Bates muttered discontentedly. "Probably miles from here."

"Not as far as you would believe," her voice came from behind them. All three men turned, to see the Athosian come out of the darkness. She gave Bates a curious glance as if she wanted to ask him something about what he'd said.

"Where've you been hiding?" Sheppard asked as Travis moved down to create a space for her on the log bench.

"I have not been hiding," Teyla answered quickly. "I have been observing the festivities from a safe distance."

John laughed quietly, but Bates and Travis kept their silence, knowing better than to mess with the Athosian. Teyla gave the Major a dark look. Quickly, Sheppard decided to mend things with, "You're smarter than the rest of us."

"Yes," Teyla responded. "I realize this."

The team from Atlantis sat as the raucous dance continued. People were jerking around like puppets on their strings. The music was suddenly at head-banging levels. Much louder and Sheppard was certain they'd all burst their eardrums. It was worse than the "Quiet Riot" concert he'd attended in his youth.

With a sigh, John hoped he didn't look half as foolish as Travis had when the doctor had been dancing about with Choate. Bates fared better with his small harem around him. He'd only needed to lean from side to side and bob his head a bit to look like he was participating. Teyla, well, Sheppard hadn't seen much of her. She'd managed to disappear rather early on. At least, John decided, there was no photographic evidence of the event. He could count on the discretion of Teyla, Bates and Travis. No one would hear a word about it.

Good thing McKay wasn't here, he decided. He'd never hear the end of it if the Canadian had observed any of this. Of course, if Rodney had been dragged into the fray, the results would have been hilarious. _Would have served him right_, Sheppard decided with a grin, trying to imagine the astrophysicist forced to mambo, to tango, to lambada – maybe even macarena. _Would have been worth the laugh._ Sheppard turned to Bates, still smiling at the idea, and was met with a deep frown.

"Three days," Bates said, raising his voice above the music.

"Three days," Travis echoed glumly.

Then Lillooet started heading toward them, her arms extended and a joyful look on her face as she spotted Teyla. The Athosian let out a disgusted low growl and Sheppard smirked at her discomfort. He lifted his eyebrows as a form of apology as the Capilano dragged Teyla away from them, and the three Atlantians watched Teyla take up the dance again.

She wasn't bad. All of that fight training paid off with nimble, graceful movements. Teyla cast them furious glances from time to time as Lillooet urged her on with a frenzied thrash.

With a yawn, Sheppard leaned back, glad that the day was nearly over, glad that it was Teyla dancing and not himself. _McKay's gonna pay_, he decided. _What he's doing can't be anywhere near this bad. Damn him! He gets to play in an Ancient's toy box. Bet he's having the time of his life. He should be suffering like the rest of us._

Really rather be back in Atlantis right now, John thought. And it was funny how much that thought affected him. He furrowed his brow as he considered it. He really _NEEDED_ to be back. He sighed, realizing that it was just his disgust with the proceedings that made him feel that way – that had to be it.

"Three days," John stated, and the men beside him nodded glumly. "Worst days of my life."  
--------------------  
TBC - yeah, think John will feel the same when he finds out what's been going on elsewhere?


	3. Part Three

**MISCONSTRUED - Part III** _- by NotTasha_  
_Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback. I appreciate it more than you know._

**CHAPTER 8: AS IF THE HOUNDS OF HELL**

Ford burst through the event horizon into Atlantis with Richmond behind, as if the hounds of hell were at their heels. Within minutes, he had rattled off the situation to Weir. Richmond had impressed him, giving detailed information regarding the known injuries of the scientists, filling in the medical team that congregated.

The first wave of the rescue unit went through almost immediately – the triage group was accustomed to assembling quickly and dispatching. Richmond went with them, leading the way. The excavation and recovery group would take longer to bring their materials together. Ford remained until they were ready to follow.

The lieutenant accompanied Weir to her office. "Someone will have to go after the Major," Ford told her.

Weir sighed discontentedly. She paused before she reached her office and called to Halling who was watching the activity in the Gateroom from the balcony. Ford frowned, watching as the tall Athosian strode toward them and they entered her office together. This wasn't the time for including him, Ford thought ruefully.

"We have to inform the Major," Ford insisted. "He needs to know what happened. Teyla will want to know, too."

"Lieutenant," Weir said softly. "Would it make any difference if they were there?"

The question brought Ford up short. "They would want to be there, ma'am. The Major, I'm certain, will want to know. Dr. McKay is missing. The doctor is a member of our team." He glanced to Halling, wondering why the man was there. "Teyla will feel the same way. She'll be upset if we don't tell her." And he let that hang, as if her temper was reason enough to do anything.

"We have a skilled team assembling – the best men for the situation," Weir responded. " If Major Sheppard were to attend, he could offer little more."

"He could offer his presence, ma'am," Ford rejoined.

"But his presence is needed elsewhere at this moment." Weir spoke to the Athosian, "Halling, what would happen if we were to break into the Capilano negotiation before it concluded?"

Halling stood with his shoulders hunched – still nearly a head taller than either of them. "The negotiations would fail," he answered. He looked apologetically toward Ford. "The Capilanos would feel that we have shamed them if we were to pull our people from the meetings before they have ended. They do not appreciate people going against their wishes."

"And the bartering agreements?" Weir led on.

With a shrug, Halling told them, "They would not wish to speak to you again. They are generous people with those that are generous to them. If they felt that you had been inconsiderate with them, then all communications would end. They highly appreciate the participation in their friendship ceremonies. It is their greatest joy." His eye twitched at those words, as if he'd been a part of such ceremonies at some point.

"So if we were to pull Sheppard from the festivities now, we'd get nothing from them?" Weir repeated to clarify.

Halling responded with a nod.

"The Major would want to be with us," Ford insisted in a low voice.

"I know, Aiden," Weir said sympathetically. "But what could he do besides move rocks?"

"He needs to be there. He'll want to be moving those rocks. He'll want to be there when we find Dr. McKay." Ford tried not to think of the dire straits that McKay and the others were in. He tried not to think of Moody and – what might have happened to the Doc. It'd be dark in that cave. McKay would be hurt, no doubt. "He will want to be there," Ford repeated emphatically.

"Whether Major Sheppard is with you or not won't make any difference in the rescue," Weir said patiently. "And what if we were to move a few rocks and find our missing scientists unharmed? Can you imagine how upset Major Sheppard would be if we recalled him for nothing? We would have wasted this opportunity."

"It wouldn't be for nothing," Ford told her.

Weir sighed, understanding, wishing she could do exactly as Ford requested, but there were larger issues at stake. "He'll be back in two days. We can fill him in then. Now, I need you to lead the rest of the team to the site so that we can get Radek, Rodney and Alvin out of there."

"But Major Sheppard…"

"Has other responsibilities right now."

"This is his responsibility," Ford muttered, feeling a little cowardly because he realized that he wanted Sheppard back for his own peace of mind as well. He didn't want to deal with the consequences of this fall-in – he didn't want to face the worst possibilities without Sheppard there.

"I know. But this is the way it has to be."

Not at all happy, Ford nodded, and stated a quick, "Yes, ma'am," before he turned to the door.

"Aiden," Weir's voice stopped him.

Ford turned smartly to face her, his face set like stone. "Ma'am?"

"I agree with you," Weir told him softly. "He'd want to be there." She glanced to Halling. "They'd both want to be there. But there's nothing they could add to the rescue and we'd lose an opportunity to gain an important trading partner."

"Yes, ma'am," Ford responded sharply. "I just don't like it."

Weir smiled slightly. "Neither do I. And, I'll accept responsibility for Teyla and Major Sheppard's reaction when they return."

With a grim face, Ford replied, "Better be wearing your fire-proof underwear." He stopped suddenly, realizing what he'd said to the expedition leader. He added a polite, "Ma'am," to his statement and smiled weakly.

Weir returned the expression warmly. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she stated, "Go get Rodney and the others, Aiden. Bring them home."

The lieutenant nodded and left the office.

**CHAPTER 9: LIKE A HORRIBLE DREAM**

Moody's body was retrieved before any excavation began, and he was respectfully returned to Atlantis. But as the work started, there had been no sign of the others.

Teams worked in three-hour shifts and the tunnel was slowly cleared. Ford remained as the personnel changed, refusing to go while McKay and the others were still missing. Deroche, Richmond and Fairholm had stayed as well. Alava had helped escort the scientists home.

One of the marines had the ATA gene and brought a life sign detector - but it proved worthless. The tunnel showed no life, even when they had their searchers in the space.

Only two of the scientists from Merritt's team remained – Burnaby and Powell – the only ones who'd, so far, escaped unharmed. They hovered about and waited anxiously to see Merritt, talking to anyone who would listen, looking pissed off and concerned.

The spotlights cast dreamlike shadows as the teams labored underground, sending silhouettes into the night. The engineers, geologists and marines toiled to shore up and empty the passage. They arduously removed the rock, filling bins and buckets, carrying rubble out in armloads, carefully taking apart what had taken seconds to fall, looking for the missing three men, hoping for an open space beneath the rubble – a space large enough to safely contain three men. The festive tile, previously collected with such care, was crushed beneath the feet or swept unceremoniously into a grit-filled bucket to be dumped outside.

A geologist had set up a device to measure seismic activity. So far, all was quiet, but the woman watched the meter with a careful eye, forever pushing her glasses up her nose as she concentrated on the readings.

Beckett and several of his people stood ready near the entrance. Carson looked nervous, idly talking to the medical staff, but his gaze constantly flitting toward the opening to the complex. He was rarely at ease when he was outside of Atlantis, and this situation was hardly comforting. Any time someone shouted from within the hole, he'd flinch as if he dreaded what they were going to say.

Aiden felt sick. He'd been put in charge of this group, and had lost four people. Moody was dead – the man he'd ordered forward – and nothing looked good for the remaining three. He waited near Beckett in the white glare of the lights -- waited for more news, watching as bin after bin of rock was heaved from the entrance.

A mountain was building of evacuated rubble – and more bracings went in as they steadied the hallway and continued onward. They'd been at it for four hours and had cleared only half the tunnel. Rooms had been left alone as they figured that the missing men must still be in that collapsed hallway – because Moody had stated that they had been on their way out.

When a boot was uncovered, a shout went out. Carson winced again, and sprung into action. Ford slapped on his safety helmet and followed the medical team down. Fairholm, Deroche and Richmond went with him. As he descended, Aiden marveled at how much larger the tunnel seemed now that so much of it had fallen and been cleared away. He moved quickly to reach the others, just behind Beckett. A small team crouched at the far end of the tunnel, working to clear the rubble away from a man. The sight was horrifying.

Ford gulped, telling himself that he was a soldier, an officer, and would not react – but the smashed body, the shattered head made him close his eyes and slow his breathing as he promised himself that the wouldn't puke. _Oh God… no_. The man's head was unrecognizable… brown hair and torn flesh. His body was broken and bloody. Ford tried not to imagine it… the horrible death. _God, what a way to go._

And worst of all, there was no telling who they'd found – it was just a body in bloody beige. Aiden found himself hoping, praying that it wasn't McKay… or Zelenka… friends, people he liked and knew. _Please, not McKay… it can't be…_ He didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't help it as his chest tightened.

_No… not McKay. Or Dr. Zelenka? No… no_. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't stand to think of either of them dying this way. That left only Merritt. Aiden felt awful wishing it were Merritt. When one the searchers found the flag patch on the busted shoulder, Ford held his breath as the cleaned it way, only exhaling as they declared it was an American.

He sent up a small prayer of thanks, even as he asked for forgiveness for wishing a man dead.

There was nothing for Beckett or his people to do for Alvin. Carson did a perfunctory check on the man, just going through the motions, but there was no doubt that Merritt was dead – dead -- dead. The Scot let out a low sigh, saying, "I'm sorry, Alvin."

And for a moment, everyone was silent in the glare of the spotlights.

Finally, feeling the quiet laying too heavily on them, Beckett stood. Grasping his medical bag, he nodded toward the wall of unexcavated rock and stated, "Rodney and Radek are under this?"

His jaw set, Aiden nodded tightly.

Carson looked lost, gazing from dark space that was open above the rubble. "They couldn't'a survived it," he said quietly. "None of them. You can't hope for an open spot under this."

"We'll keep looking," Ford insisted, glancing toward the exit as two men entered, carrying a body bag. "We're not going to give up."

Frustrated, Carson shouted, "Look at 'im, Lieutenant!" He gestured to the mashed remains of Merritt. "No one's gonna survive this. Look at what fell on 'em!" And he jabbed a hand toward the rock fall that still barred their way. "They're not gonna get out of this! There's just no way!"

Ford stepped forward, shoving Beckett back a step. The soldiers and medical personnel pulled back, waiting to see what happened next in the cramped space. "We will not stop looking!" Ford insisted. "I haven't given up, and I need YOU to keep believing, too."

Looking miserable, Beckett nodded. "Aye," he responded. "Aye, I want to… I want to."

"Dr. McKay is pretty bright," Ford tried. "Bet he found someplace to ride this out."

"Aye," was all Carson could say in response. He nodded, but kept his eyes downcast, watching as his staff carefully lifted Merritt's ruined body and placed him within the body bag. "Bright, yes he is."

And Ford couldn't help thinking that Beckett already looked as if he'd lost his friend.

Fairholm stepped back, pressing his back against the wall. "Moody said he'd seen the others in the tunnel with Dr. Merritt."

"They should be under this next bit of rock," Richmond decided, pointing to a space just beyond where they were standing, under a ton of debris.

"Christ," Deroche sighed, rubbing the back of his head, just under his helmet. "Jesus Christ…"

"Enough already," Ford growled. And everyone grew quiet as Merritt's body was carefully lifted. The glare of the bright lights made everything too stark. It was like a horrible dream. A need for dimness made Ford reach out and turn off the nearest of the spotlights, dropping the space into a more comforting shadow.

They stood in silence as the scientist's body was removed -- to follow Sgt. Moody back to Atlantis. How many men had they lost since they arrived in Atlantis? How many more would be lost? And Ford turned his head to the still-filled tunnel, hoping beyond hope that McKay and Zelenka had escaped the terrible finish that had found Merritt.

As he gazed to the collapse of stone, he frowned. "Turn off the other spots," he ordered.

"It'll get dark," Richmond told him. "I mean, pitch black. We won't be able to see a hand in front of your face."

"Turn them off!" Ford ordered, his gaze not leaving the space above the rubble.

There was a click, and another, and the group was plunged into darkness – but it wasn't as black as Richmond had suggested. In the unexcavated part of the tunnel, something glowed.

"What is that?" Beckett asked, reaching out to grasp hold of Ford's arm. He stepped closer to the lieutenant, unable to see anything but the soft glow that illuminated the rocks above their heads.

"Fairholm?" Ford called. "Before the cave in… were they using any spotlights this far into the cavern?"

"No sir," Fairholm responded. "They had a couple of portable units up near the front, but those got smashed. They were just using flashlights further down."

"What are the chances of a flashlight surviving the cave in?" For d asked in the darkness. "Still on, still working?"

"Not bloody likely, if you ask me," Beckett replied. "Unless of course, someone kept it safe with them."

"Get those spots on again!" Ford ordered and was engulfed immediately in bright white light. It took a moment for his eyes to function correctly. Finally, he blinked his vision clear and looked toward the wall of rock that partially filled the tunnel. It was possible that McKay and Zelenka were beneath it – yes – but he'd seen the light and a new hope reached him.

Without waiting any longer, he strode forward, grasping onto the rocky surface before him, and started climbing.

"Sir," Richmond called after him. "If they're under the rocks…"

"Then they're dead, private," Ford replied bluntly. "But I got a good feeling that they're not." He reached the top, finding an open space, wide enough to crawl through. Turning, he offered down a hand to Beckett, who held out his medical bag, and then followed.

**CHAPTER 10: LIKE LIVING THINGS**

It was slow going, crawling along the top of the rubble. The rocks shifted beneath them living things, and they slid, trying to find a purchase, but they never slowed. They passed two rooms that were so filled with debris it was unimaginable that anyone could have survived. The light… the light led them onward.

Ford kept moving, hearing Beckett struggling behind him and his swearing as knees scraped along the uncompromising rock, shoulders banged the low ceiling. "It's bloody difficult to do this with a helmet on!" Carson called from behind him.

"Then take it off," Ford commented, having his own difficulty trying to tip his head to one side to see where he was going, and to keep the back of the helmet from cutting into his neck.

"Not bloody likely," Beckett responded sharply, followed by the _whack_ of his helmet meeting again with the low-slung ceiling, and "Blast!"

"We're almost there," Ford stated encouragingly, spotting the opening ahead of them from where the glow emanated. He clambered forward, struggling over the rocks, to finally reach the doorway and peer within. He let out a low breath at the sight that greeted him.

Behind him, Ford heard the cry from Beckett, "What? What do you see?"

"It's nowhere near as bad as the others," Ford called as he gazed about the room. The room was strewn with debris but, where the other rooms were filled halfway to the ceilings, this one had only a layer of rock across the floor. And against one side of the room – a light. Ford turned himself about and scooted down through the opening feet-first, landing unsteadily. "Dr. McKay?" he called. "Dr. Zelenka?"

Ford heard Beckett fussing around behind him, and Deroche further back, giving the doctor a hand. He let the medic handle the doctor and he clambered over the low level of rock toward the glow. It all shifted and crunched and shattered beneath his feet, but he moved carefully, looking where he stepped, making certain that no one was beneath his path. He reached the light as Beckett finally tottered onto the floor and Deroche came down behind him.

There was a low wall of fallen rock, and behind it – an open space – and alcove – a little safe spot within all the chaos. And beneath the rubble… a man with a flashlight.

"Beckett!" Ford called, leaning over the impeding rocks. "It's McKay!" God, Rodney looked like hell. He was bruised, and utterly still. Rocks covered half of him. A nasty wound had bled down his face. The dust had settled down into the blood and onto his skin, making him gray as a corpse. _No,_ Ford thought, _no… not a corpse. _He reached out one hand, touching the pale face, hoping. Rodney felt cold. "Doc?" he called. "Doc, can you hear me?"

He heard Beckett clattering up behind him. The doctor grabbed hold of his arm to steady himself, and leaned against him, shining his light into the little alcove that had partially protected the physicist.

Ford's forehead furrowed in concern as Rodney didn't respond to his touch. "Come on, Doc," he whispered worriedly. _Don't… you can't be… we found you… _The tightness in his chest increased as he grappled with the rocks, removing the layer that trapped McKay's arm. _No… no… no…_

McKay came awake with a gasp, and Ford found himself smiling. "Doc," he called. "Hey, Dr. McKay." He could think of nothing else, so thrilled that the man wasn't dead. But Rodney didn't seem to see him. His unfocused eyes stared at nothing in the stark light as he gasped and tried to cough.

"Step back now, lad," Beckett ordered, getting around the lieutenant.

Ford didn't want to relinquish his place immediately, needing to talk to McKay, make sure he was okay, but now that his arm was freed, McKay was twisting about, his face contorted with pain. "S'okay, Doc," he tried to assure. "You're okay."

Beckett roughly shoved an arm across Ford's chest, forcing him back. "Julien, give me a hand!" Carson called as Ford stumbled away, letting Deroche take his place.

Aiden watched as the two leaned into the opening, hunched over McKay, who tried to curl up in the too small space and continued to wheeze in pain-filled breaths. "Be still, Rodney," Beckett's voice was soothing but uncompromising as he and Deroche worked to immobilize him. "It's okay. We found you." McKay made a sharp cry. "No, Rodney, don't move your arm. Don't move a'tall." Turning his head, Beckett demanded, "We need a backboard and a collar. Now, Lieutenant!"

And Ford clicked on his radio, issuing orders, getting people in motion. Meanwhile, he searched with his light, shining it up and down, at his feet, along the wall, over the fallen debris, until he discovered the second alcove deeper in the room. _Of course… of course…_

Stumbling over the rocks, he made his way toward it, reaching the sheltered spot. He could hear others coming up the narrow tunnel, could hear McKay making distressed sounds and Beckett's attempts to calm him. "I need you to be still, Rodney. You're hurt. I know… I know… We got you now. It's gonna be all right."

Deroche was on the radio, calling out more of their needs. He was going on about broken ribs, broken arm, concussion, possible internal injuries. Deroche sounded damn anxious about getting the supplies as Beckett kept working over McKay.

Ford crouched down to see inside the space and let out a breath as his light revealed what he was after. There, in the open space, curled around some odd shaped device, was Radek. "I found him!" he called. "I found Dr. Zelenka!" He pulled at rocks to get at the Czech.

Beckett looked up from his work, trying to keep Rodney from moving. "Thank God! Is he breathing?" Carson asked anxiously.

Finally finding enough space to reach in, Ford managed to grasp hold of a limp arm, and felt for a pulse. He nodded. "Alive… he's alive," he exclaimed.

"Kin you see any injuries?"

"He looks fine," Ford stated, forcing away more of the rocks. "Can't see anything wrong with him. I can't even see if any of these rocks hit him. Radek? Radek? Can you hear me?" He couldn't get close to the man. With a frustrated movement, he shoved the microwave-sized device out of the way and was finally able to reach him. "Dr. Zelenka?" he called again, as he reach his shoulder. But Zelenka didn't respond, and the rest of Beckett's team stumbled into the room.  
--------------------  
_TBC - They found them! That's gotta be good right? Things gotta be looking up now..._


	4. Part Four

**MISCONSTRUED - Part IV** _- by NotTasha_  
_Thank you for all the delicious feedback. You've been so wonderful to me. Thanks! Oh, and remember, I know nothing about medicine. If this is all wrong... just go with it :-)_

**CHAPTER 11: LIKE CRAP**

Ford woke a with a start. Bleary-eyed, confused, he looked around, finding himself in Beckett's comfortable waiting room – and the doctor standing at the entrance with a steaming mug in his hand.

"Ach," Carson said. "I see you didn't leave at all last night." He sighed, shaking his head. His hair was still wet from a recent shower and his unrumbled clothing told that he'd at least made it back to his room.

"Fell asleep," Ford mumbled.

"Yes, I could see that," Carson replied. He gestured to the mug, saying, "I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but I only brought enough for me… and it's tea."

"Hmmmph," Ford replied, running a hand through his close-cropped hair and trying to shake himself from sleep. They'd freed the two scientists as quickly and carefully as possible from their tomb. McKay's injuries distressed Beckett, and he'd shouted at his people about the urgency of getting the physicist back as soon as possible. Zelenka had worried him. A large bump was found at the back of his head, and little else. Radek's pupil's were dilated and he'd had given them no reaction to stimuli. He remained as still as death.

They'd been strapped down to boards and toted toward the exit. And thankfully, the seismic activity seemed to have quieted – for the time being at least.

Carrying McKay and Zelenka through the narrow tunnel had been harrowing. Maneuvering through the tight space carrying litters was hardly easy, but Zelenka's stillness helped. McKay was less accommodating, but Beckett's constant litany of "Keep still, Rodney. Don't move a'tall. We've got you. We'll get you out," seemed to help. McKay, for his part, tried not to put up a struggle, but every movement was tortuous to handle.

The journey had been completed surprisingly quickly, and they'd brought the scientists out to the cold night air of P6M-301.

Doctors Burnaby and Powell had remained at the entrance, buzzing with questions, asking where McKay and Zelenka had been found, what had happened to them. They wanted all the particulars – how far were they from Merritt? Who was found first? Ford had looked at them as if they'd grown extra heads when they started badgering him about the device, and finally he had to send Fairholm and Richmond back into the tunnel to retrieve this vital piece of technology.

The two marines had emerged quickly with the cumbersome box just as Beckett had finished preparing Rodney and Radek for the journey back. They loaded the injured men and the scavenged device on the MALP and brought them back to Atlantis.

Ford had traveled with his friends as far as he could. He'd ridden with them on the MALP, as Rodney came to, confused, pained, struggling. It had taken a few frantic moments to keep him still, to assure him that he was safe. Ford remembered staring into those terrified, pain-filled eyes as McKay grasped at him. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," Ford had chanted, wishing it was. The physicist hadn't lasted long, and Ford doubted that he ever knew what was going on. He slipped back into unconsciousness almost immediately, leaving Ford with a racing heart.

He'd accompanied them through the Gate, and had followed Beckett's team as gurneys carried Rodney and Radek from the Gateroom, leaving Burnaby and Powell to deal with the device.

And then he had waited, after Rodney had been taken to surgery – internal injuries – bleeding himself to death inside. Radek was taken to MRI to find out what was going on inside his head. The infirmary was crowded, filled with scientists injured in the collapse, their colleagues, and the medical staff trying to take care of them all. Ford had attempted to find a quiet spot to wait for word, but the noise within the facility was getting to him. And the words being bandied about were even more troubling.

They were all nattering non-stop about the cave-in, about how Merritt had died, how the others had left him, how Merritt would be alive and well – if not for that device – if McKay hadn't made him stay below and remove it. And why had Merritt been left to face his fate in the hallway instead of being allowed into the safe room with the others?

Ford had no idea about what had happened in that underground complex, he just needed to get away from the jabbering of the intellectuals. He needed to get away from their conjectures and assumptions. He couldn't hear it just yet – not with the death of Sgt. Moody so vivid in his memory, not after seeing what happened to Dr. Merritt, not after finding McKay in so much pain and Zelenka so absolutely silent. So, he slid out into Beckett's lovely waiting room – containing the softest, most comfortable chairs in Atlantis.

Easily, he'd slid into an overstuffed chair. Most waiting rooms back in their home galaxy seemed to be dominated by hard, plastic seats that felt like crap after one sat in them for more than ten minutes. Ford had no idea where Beckett had gotten his furniture, but it was times like this that he wanted to kiss the Scot. He'd fallen asleep before he even realized he was so very tired. And now, awake, he wanted to know everything.

"How are they?" Ford asked Beckett, his face open with worry.

Beckett nodded. "Rodney made it through surgery. He was pretty banged up inside. It took longer than we would have wanted, but we've got the damage all sewn up. Got a nasty rap on the head, broke a couple of ribs, and his arm has a rather painful fracture. He's gonna be sore for a while, I'm afraid."

"So, he's going to be fine?" Ford asked anxiously.

Beckett stated, "We _believe_ so."

Frowning, Ford pressed him, "You 'believe' so?"

Beckett let out a breath. "He was in pretty bad shape, lieutenant. He'd bled inside for hours before we got to him. His broken ribs are givin' him trouble breathing. He seems to be improving, but only time will tell."

Ford nodded, accepting this. 'Improving' was better than the other thing. "And what about Dr. Zelenka?"

Again, Beckett sighed. "His shelter was apparently larger than Rodney's, but he received a rather severe blow to the head. There's some swelling. He's under medication that should relieve that."

"Swelling?"

"His brain, lad, inside his skull," Beckett responded.

"That's not good," Ford responded.

Beckett nodded glumly. "Aye," he replied. "He's respondin' to the medication, so we won't have to go about drillin' holes in his head. He hasn't come around and it may be some time before he does. We have to hope. We just have to wait and hope. Wouldn't hurt to say a prayer." He took a sip from his mug to end the conversation, then stated, "Come on then." Carson opened the other door to the infirmary. "Let's go see how they're doin'."

The infirmary was quieter than the night before – the visitors had departed and the injured were resting – until they saw Beckett; then, a hue and cry went up as they voiced their pains and aches, demanding information, diagnosing themselves and insisting on treatment.

Beckett moved past them, nodding as if he listened, moving toward the desk where Dr. Gutterman sat, smiling at them. "So," Beckett said tiredly, "how is everyone this mornin'?"

Ford moved away, letting the doctors talk their medical stuff. He walked along, gazing at the occupants in the beds. Some of the patients slept, others watched him as he moved past. They looked strangely annoyed and defiant. He found what he sought at the back of the room, near the nurse's station. Someone had been thoughtful enough to put their beds near each other – Beckett no doubt.

With a sigh, Ford looked down on his injured teammate. "Hey, Doc," Ford said quietly, taking in the wan complexion, the bruises, the bandages, the IVs, the monitors, the oxygen, the cast that encased his arm. It looked as if McKay had taken one hell of a beating. "Hey, Doc, it's me, Ford… Aiden," he said as he sat in the chair between the beds.

"Not like you to be still," Ford commented, resting his arms on his knees and sitting forward. "Seems like I never see you quiet unless it's something bad." The monitors beeped and McKay didn't stir. "Sorry it took so long to find you. We got there as soon as we could. Good thing you had that flashlight. It's what led us to you. Pretty smart – turning it on. I guess that's what you are, right? Smart." And he ran out of things to say.

Ford turned in the other direction, to Zelenka. He didn't look as bad as McKay, but his chances seemed shakier than McKay's at that moment. "Hi, Dr. Zelenka," he said with forced cheerfulness. "How's it goin'?" and he winced at his stupid remark. _How's it going?_ Hell of a time to ask a question like that! Bet, if he could answer, Zelenka would say he felt like crap… or however you said it in Czech.

What could he do? What could he possibly do? What could he have done to stop this from happening? Could he have saved Joe Moody? Or Merritt? Could he have kept McKay and Zelenka from getting hurt? He should have. It was his responsibility to keep them all safe and alive. God, he screwed up this time. He felt like crap.

At the next bed, one of the scientists, Dr. Stanley, with her head wrapped, was gazing at him with a discontented look. He glanced about, seeing the same unhappy expression reflected elsewhere. He'd become the center of attention. _They blame me_, he thought_. They blame me for all of this._

Miserable, Ford propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, feeling the guilt settle on him. _God, this sucks,_ he thought, wishing Sheppard was back to take care of things. _Why couldn't the Major be here?_

**CHAPTER 12: LIKE TIM HORTONS**

Sheppard awoke slowly. The sun shining in through the tent flaps was warm and inviting. He sat up, stretched, and regarded his compatriots, who were all in the process of awakening as well. For a moment he did nothing, letting his mind shake off the slumber. There was that feeling again… that he really should be home.

It's the cot, he realized. The damn cot. His bed back in Atlantis was a hell of a lot more comfortable. The Ancients knew what they were doing – a good night sleep works wonders for the body. He stretched his back, trying to work out the kinks.

"Mornin'," Sheppard called to Teyla, who winced. "Headache?" he asked.

Instead of speaking, the Athosian nodded curtly and squinted.

Sheppard smiled smugly at that response. "Yeah," he replied. "Me, too."

"I figured that the music would never end," Bates ground out, rubbing his forehead. "You think we're going to go through more of the same today?"

Orin grimaced. "God, I hope not!"

And the four sat on their cots, trying to awaken and to get their minds set for a new day among the Capilanos.

Suddenly, Chilliwack poked his head thought their tent flap and gave them an intense look. "The sun is up," he said.

"Yeah," Sheppard replied. "I can tell."

"We must get started." He pressed his way inside – and strangely enough – instead of flowing Hari Krishna garb, he wore a tailored-looking suit in a pretty pastel peach. He looked at them with an almost disdainful expression. "You do realize that it's Negotiation Day?" he asked, taking in their rumpled civvies. "And we have plenty to discuss today."

"Yeah… yeah…" Sheppard responded.

The once wild-and-free hippy-boy was suddenly the poster child for corporate behavior. "The meeting will commence shortly. There will be pastries and morning tea provided. Please, don't delay." And he turned sharply and left the tent.

The three Earthlings looked at each other in disbelief as Teyla got to her feet and opened her rucksack. "Teyla," Sheppard started. "What the hell?"

The Athosian was busily going through her things, locating the appropriate garb. "When the Capilanos are ready to discuss business, they are able negotiators," she explained. "I believe they enjoy the process. They wish to ensure their trade agreements are always clearly understood so that there is no room for misinterpretation."

"Oh," Sheppard responded.

"We had best hurry as we do not want to disappoint them by arriving late." She looked up, as the men still stared at her. "They are well known for their excellent pastries," she tried to encourage. "They create something that I believe you would call a 'doughnut'. Doctor McKay has mentioned someone named 'Tim Horton' was similar."

"Doughnuts?" Bates muttered. "Doesn't seem like the sort of thing tree-huggers should be making."

Teyla shook her head. "Our early perceptions of people are not the clearest," she explained. "We shall be busy today."

With a nod, Sheppard stood and the others followed and they prepared for negotiations.

**CHAPTER 13: THE QUESTIONS EVERYONE ASKS**

He felt woozy and strange. Pain niggled at him, almost dulled, but pain just the same. His stomach hurt, his arm, his head, his chest – but there was a detachment to it, as if he were drugged.

Drugged… yes, that's it… drugs… morphine maybe. He didn't doubt the need for it – because he hurt even under the morphine's effects, and he really disliked pain – did everything to avoid it. But, he hated this dizzy disconnected feeling. He hated not being able to think straight, because thinking was all he ever really had. He hated this molasses feeling, dull and dim and dumb. When his brain wasn't obeying him – he was rather worthless.

Besides… morphine was supposed to make you constipated. He hated that, too.

He listened, because that was all he could do at the moment. Near him, a monitor beeped. There was a clatter of instruments, the squeak of something being wheeled about, the shuffling of someone in a bed, the flutter of sheets, and the general groaning and misery of patients. Hospital… he was in hospital… the infirmary… _damn_. _What the hell happened?_

He listened, because he was too damn tired and hurt to awaken, listened to get his bearings and to get his head clear, to figure out what was going on before he blurted out something stupid like, 'where am I?' He'd heard that this was the first thing most people said when they woke up in a hospital, and he was determined to be smarter than the average man.

After all, he was a genius – right? And if he couldn't think like one, he'd have nothing left.

He listened because he was scared…he was scared and needed to have a handle on things before he let himself face anyone. He couldn't remember what had happened… he couldn't remember how he'd been hurt. Something… something about a mission… and an underground facility… and the ridiculous notion that the place may have been used to manufacture ZPMs… and he remembered Merritt.

Merritt… the earthquake… and that gut wrenching horror as the ceiling came down. And then he remembered…

"It's just not fair," someone said nearby. Maybe it was Dr. Stanley – the pretty blonde who wore her hair too long and never smiled. "What happened to Alvin… just not fair."

"You know it. Shit, and you didn't even hear to McKay," another voice answered – Burnaby. "Me and Brian were down there just before it all came down. The place was shaking and McKay was ripping Alvin a new one – telling him to get that device out of the wall. Told him he couldn't leave until that thing was out."

"He wasn't even helping," the next voice was Powell. "Me and Dave had been talking to Radek. Zelenka was going on about how McKay was keeping Merritt down there to get out the device. I mean, come on, Alvin had enough sense to get out when that earthquake started. He wouldn't have just stayed in there for nothing! Then, McKay shouted at Zelenka to come back in so that he could make both of them to do his bidding. He didn't care what happened to either of them."

"Wants to hog all the glory," Burnaby stated. "He's such an arrogant son of a bitch. Thinks he's the best at everything, the biggest brain in all of fucking Atlantis. You watch. Soon as we figure out what that damn device does, he'll take all the credit for it."

"It's like him," Stanley added succinctly.

Powell put in, "McKay… if it wasn't for him, Alvin would still be alive, Sgt. Moody, too. And Radek wouldn't be like that…"

_Radek? What… what had happened to Zelenka?_ McKay strained to hear. Near his ear, the monitor's beeping increased. _What happened to everyone… why are so many people here? Radek? What's wrong with him?_

On the other side of him, an accented female voice called, "Doctor Beckett?"

"It's a fucking shame." Burnaby again. "Alvin was a better man than he'd ever be. Bet McKay wanted him dead because Alvin was showing him up. And now Dr. Zelenka might never wake up. Damn it, Sylvia, at least you and the others didn't get hurt too badly."

Stanley made a disgusted sound. "You're not the one with stitches in your head."

_Never wake up? No! _Pursing his lips, Rodney tried to focus, to hear them more clearly, to understand.

"Did you hear what Private Deroche said?" Powell asked. "The coward got into the first available hidey-hole. Radek had to go to the one at the far side of the room. Had to carry that device with him."

"Does it surprise you?" Burnaby asked. "That McKay would run and hide, leaving Zelenka to fend for himself? Made Zelenka tote that device that Merritt died over. Shit, all because McKay wanted more glory."

"And now Zelenka's in a coma, we got two people dead, and McKay's gonna get all the credit for finding that device," Powell added. "Big surprise."

"Selfish prick," Stanley commented with her usual brevity.

_Coma? Two dead… Oh God no…_

Powell laughed, and said, "Good thing for McKay that the Major hasn't come back. This would probably be the last straw for him."

"Yeah," Burnaby responded. "Just goes to show how Sheppard feels. I mean, the Major didn't even bother coming back from that meeting. Bet you're right. This will be his 'just cause' for finally booting McKay off his team."

Powell snorted. "Probably has been wanting to do it since the beginning."

"What's all this then?" a burr sounded, coming toward them. "Brian, David… you recall that I'd asked you to let Sylvia rest."

"Figured she was lonely," Burnaby replied with a snip in his voice. "Didn't want her to be alone here."

"Yeah," Powell added. "Sucks to be stuck in here."

"Hmmm," Beckett responded. "Sucks, does it? Well, run along then. You may leave the sucking zone. She needs her rest. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Rodney heard the clip of Beckett's shoes coming closer. "Maria?" Carson called.

The Hispanic nurse responded, "Dr. McKay's vitals have changed. I believe he's coming around again."

"Excellent." Then came an insistent calling, "Rodney? Rodney? Rodney, can you hear me?" He heard Carson move about, messing with something near the bed. "Come on, Rodney, I know you're wakin'. Kin you open your eyes a bit? Rodney? Just for a moment and I'll let you be. I'm not goin' 'til you do." There was a pause, and he felt the warmth of a hand grip his. "I mean it, Rodney. No rest for you until you…Ah! There you are!"

It had taken some strength to crack open his eyes… but no will power. If he'd had any will power, he would have continued playing possum.

"Rodney, you're all right," Beckett told him. He'd released McKay's hand and Rodney missed the warmth. "You're back in Atlantis and you're gonna be fine." The Scot's worried eyes met his. "You've been in surgery, Rodney, to repair some bleeding. That all went well, but you're gonna feel awful weak for a while. You've broken some ribs, fractured your left arm – it's in a cast, you see? So try to keep that still. And you suffered a bit of a concussion… In other words, you're a mess." The doctor smiled lightly. "You're gonna be in some pain. I've cut back on the meds a bit so you'd wake. You need to let me know when it gets too bad."

Rodney wanted to ask about Zelenka – but he already knew about the Czech's grave condition. He wanted to ask about Merritt – but Merritt was dead and gone. He wanted to ask about that soldier in the tunnel, Moody, but that was pointless as well. What about the other scientists? He'd already heard that they were going to be all right. Besides, it was too much of a cliché to wake up and instantly ask about the welfare of others – and he didn't want to do anything 'ordinary'. He already knew the answers and he didn't really want to hear them.

He wanted to ask if morphine really caused constipation, but he figured he'd take his chances.

His questions had mostly been answered, so he said, "Could I have some water…?" and was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

With a sympathetic expression, Beckett explained that there'd be only ice chips for now.

He sucked in a breath, feeling the hurt of his chest and he coughed – regretting it – regretting it a lot as the cough continued.

"Hang on, hang on," Beckett said. "Just ride through it, Rodney. Better?" he asked as the coughing slowed. "Better?" he asked again.

"Loads," Rodney responded, still gasping for air. "Feel like crap."

"Aye," Beckett replied. "I thought as much."

"How long?" McKay asked, feeling stupid – because wasn't that another of those questions everyone asks? "How long have I… been here?"

"It's been about a day," Beckett responded. "You've been in and out a bit since surgery." He smiled tightly, but couldn't hide the worry that still lit his eyes. "It's good to see you awake and talking, Rodney."

_A day…we've been here a day… Radek has been unconscious for a day. _McKay grimaced with that realization – _oh, that can't be good… not good at all. God, I'm sorry, Radek… I'm so damn sorry._

Seeing McKay's expression change, Beckett called his name, but he was slipping away, thinking about how sorry he was… how wrong he'd been. He'd gotten Merritt killed – Moody and Merritt -- his own selfishness had killed two people – had doomed Zelenka. Why hadn't he let them go when they had the chance? What had he been thinking?

Why had he risked their lives to retrieve a device? He couldn't even remember it. What had been so important about it? Why had he traded Merritt and Zelenka and Moody for it?

_What have I done? I'm sorry… I'm so damn sorry._

"Rodney?" Beckett called, but he wouldn't open his eyes again. He felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. "Okay then," Beckett stated. "Get some more rest, Rodney." The pressure remained for a minute.

Beckett watched the monitors, unsure if the physicist was asleep or merely resting. "It's okay," he stated again, just in case Rodney was still listening. With a sigh, he turned to Zelenka, and checked his monitors, and asked Maria, "Any changes with Radek?" he asked.

The Mexican nurse shook her head with a woeful, "It's almost as if he's in a sort of purgatory, stuck and waiting."

Beckett grimaced at the comparison. "Don't mention purgatory to me. I plan to keep him from it." He grasped Radek's hand a moment, called his name as he'd done several times already, but the monitors remained constant – telling him that the man still lived but wouldn't wake. Purgatory… perhaps that was closer to truth than he cared to mention. With a slow exhale, Carson turned and moved away, heading back the way he came.

"Move along now," Beckett stated as he passed Burnaby and Powell, both still posed around Dr. Stanley's bed.

"Yeah, yeah," Powell responded. "One more minute."

Tiredly, Beckett held up a finger. "One minute then!" and he bustled away, too busy with all his patients to be put upon by discontented and well scientists.

Once the doctor moved off, Burnaby asked, "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Powell responded.

"That ass-hole, McKay, didn't even ask about Dr. Zelenka. Didn't ask about Dr. Merritt or that poor bastard, Moody. It wouldn't even cross his mind to think about Sylvia," Burnaby said, gesturing to the scientist who sported a head wrapping. "Didn't ask about any of us. He didn't give a shit about anyone but himself."

"Always knew that," Dr. Stanley responded, and ran one hand along her bandage-restricted hair.

"How the hell did he get to be head of this department, anyway?" Powell asked.

In his own bed, McKay felt himself sink deeper into the abyss, thinking, _what have I done?_  
--------------------  
_TBC - Oh dear.. sounds like trouble._


	5. Part Five

**MISCONSTRUED - Part V** _- by NotTasha_  
_Thank you again for the feedback. You really do my heart good! _

**CHAPTER 14: LIKE A VIRUS**

It had started from the moment the first scientists returned through the Stargate, bloody and hastily bandaged, under the care of the triage team and escorted by Marines. It started with their rumbling, discontented comments, and it spread like a virus.

Soon everyone was talking about what had taken place on that planet – how McKay had coldheartedly kept two of the team members too long in the tunnel. The pursuit of Ancient technology had clouded the physicist's mind one time too many and now others had suffered the consequences.

Dr. Weir had taken reports, had heard what everyone had to say. The official comments were fairly consistent -- the team had been working in the underground cavern; Dr. McKay had been at odds with Dr. Merritt throughout the day; McKay and Merritt had discovered something and an argument broke out; the earthquake hit and, during the evacuation, the argument continued; many clearly remembered hearing McKay shouting at Merritt to get the device out; Zelenka had spoken briefly with Corporal Alava, and Doctors Powell and Burnaby and had verified this information; McKay called Zelenka back; Moody had reported seeing Merritt, Zelenka and McKay in the tunnel together and stated that McKay was abusing Merritt in some way; Moody died trying to get the lagging scientists out; Merritt died because he'd been forced to remain; Zelenka was in a coma because he'd been called back; McKay had run when Merritt was in trouble – had run to the first hole he could find and left Zelenka to find something for himself while carrying the device. McKay was the only one of this group currently awake and recovering.

Weir listened, trying to remain dispassionate, trying to question and not accuse, but none of the reports made sense. "Are you certain that's what happened?" she'd ask them.

"I know what I heard," she'd get in response – and several of the interrogated scientists had crossed their arms and looked at her with arrogant expressions.

But she didn't believe it… not entirely. The scientists were Merritt's chosen team – loyal to him. Of course they'd show him preference. And there had always been a marked rivalry between the various factions in the science department. But the military involved confirmed what the civilians told them. There'd been arguments, there'd been shouting from McKay, demands that Merritt get the thing out during the worst of the quake, even Lt. Ford confirmed it.

"Yes, Ma'am," the lieutenant responded, looking unhappy to say it. "I did hear Dr. McKay shouting at Dr. Merritt."

"Do you remember exactly what was said?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

Ford thought a moment and shook his head. "It was just… you know… the way they are. They'd been annoying each other all day. Dr. McKay seemed really irritated with Dr. Merritt, kept saying his theories about the place were no good." He paused and then defended, "And I think Dr. McKay was right about most of it."

Furrowing his brow, Ford continued, speaking quietly, "When the earthquake started, I heard McKay shouting, I heard him yell at Merritt, telling him to remove the device. I heard him shout for Dr. Zelenka to come back because Merritt couldn't handle it by himself. But… that's just the way he is," Ford defended. "When he gets excited, he tends to…"

"Get a bit abrupt?"

"Yeah, I guess that's one way to say it. It's just how he is. I didn't think it meant anything. You know that, don't you? You know all of this is wrong?"

And yes, Weir realized the information didn't add up, but what else did she have to go by? It was like the incident with Brendan Gall – rumors flew then as well. She feared it would be even worse this time.

When the interviews were completed, Elizabeth could only sigh and hope that Rodney and Radek awoke soon and would talk to her to tell her their point of view.

Rodney had been in and out of consciousness over the past day-and-a-half, never awake for long. He'd spoken briefly to Carson or his people, had managed a few words with Grodin when the Brit had stopped by to tell him about the progress on the Ancient device. Apparently there'd been some speculation that removing the machine had caused the earthquake, but research quickly proved that false. There continued to be aftershocks on P6M-301, but nothing to compare to the temblor that brought down the roof.

When Grodin told him that the device still remained a mystery, not divulging what made it so important. "So far, it's worthless," Peter had said. McKay became even more quiet. So far, Weir hadn't had a chance to talk to him – that was about to change, she decided. She needed some answers.

"He hasn't said much," Beckett told her as she entered the infirmary again. The wounded scientists were mostly gone now, except for Dr. Stanley who remained due to her head injury. Beckett wanted to keep a close eye on her for a little longer. Dr. Zelenka still hadn't stirred and Rodney would be there for some time yet.

They passed Stanley's bed. She still had visitors, which was strange because she wasn't a very outgoing person. Rubber-neckers, Weir decided, figuring that they wanted to be around to see what happened to McKay and Zelenka. That would explain Kavanagh's presence in any case. The pony-tailed scientist gave her a self-satisfied look as she passed.

"Has he awakened recently?" Elizabeth asked, as they approached McKay's bed.

Jamming his hands into his lab-coat pockets, Beckett responded, "I believe he's awake more often then we think." He leaned over the recumbent man and asked loudly, "Isn't that right, Rodney?"

There was no response.

"Come on then," Beckett said with a sigh. "Just for a few minutes, Rodney. Dr. Weir needs to talk to you. Needs to find out what really happened. We need to know."

Weary blue eyes opened in a pale face and gazed up at them. "What?" he asked softly.

Elizabeth smiled warmly, glad to see those eyes. She took the chair that Beckett pulled out for her and she settled beside his bed. "How are you?" she asked sincerely.

He furrowed his brow, opened his mouth as if to snap out some comment, paused and then said, "Not so good."

She smiled again. "I know," she responded, taking in his appearance – battered and bandaged. He really looked awful. She leaned close to him to hear his soft voice. "Are you up to answering some questions?"

McKay smiled weakly. "Well… the Major calls me the 'answer man'…I guess that's what I'm good for."

"Do you remember what happened?" Weir asked.

Again, his brow creased. "I…I… I don't remember everything," he admitted as if he were confessing to a crime. "I've been trying, but I just can't fit it all together." His voice was soft and filled with frustration.

"That's okay," Weir told him. "Just tell me what you recall."

"We'd found a panel … Radek and I. Merritt showed up, wanting to horn his way in. He opened it before I had a chance, and we…." he paused, trying… trying to remember it right but it was all a jumble, empty spaces. Looking up into the sympathetic eyes of Elizabeth, he struggled. "Give me a minute…."

"Take your time. It's okay, Rodney," she said understandingly. "Just try. Tell me what you remember."

And he hated it, because he couldn't… there was a blackness after that… and empty hole… and it was terribly important to remember. Weir's expression was so encouraging, as if she was willing him to say something else… willing him to tell her everything. How could he disappoint her?

Watching his attempt to speak, Weir told him, "Anything would help, Rodney. Can you remember anything at all?"

He hated this. "The earthquake…" Rodney tried. It was all patchy and his inability to give her a correct answer tore at him. He was the 'answer man' after all – he had to provide solutions. He had to tell her something! Had to fill in those holes. "I… had to get the device out. Merritt… I had Merritt do the work." And he closed his eyes… trying to put it all together. "But he was taking too long. I couldn't wait. Zelenka… he left, but I called him back. Merritt couldn't do it himself. I needed someone else."

And he couldn't quite get it. He had a mind capable of mastering the most complex puzzles, but he couldn't un-muddle the events. And 'thinking' was the only thing he'd ever had… how could his brain fail him? "Made them get it out before it was destroyed by the earthquake… Zelenka and Merritt… had to bring out that device… I…." and he paused, trying. "…made them stay until it was done."

"Go on, Rodney," Weir led, her voice sounding tight.

"Sgt. Moody, I saw him, wanted him to help us… so he came. The archway collapsed and I shoved Merritt right under it," McKay stated, his voice astounded as this bit of memory came clear. His eyes opened again, and he looked up at Weir with disbelief. "I did… I was so angry with him… I shoved him… under it as it fell."

Weir, leaning just above him, asked, "Are you sure? Rodney, it couldn't have happened that way."

"But I remember," he said softly, closing his eyes again, closing them tightly. _Oh God… _he remembered_. It was true… it was true._ He was the reason they all died. "I remember," he rasped, wanting to get away… to run… to flee, and there was only one way to accomplish that.

"Rodney?" Weir called again but received no response. "Rodney?" She touched the side of his face softly, then looked up at Beckett who stood over them.

"Asleep again," Beckett stated, noting the monitors, "Or at least I believe so." He sighed. "I think he just hides this way sometimes."

_Coward,_ Rodney thought.

"Rodney?" she called again. She waited a moment longer, brushing her hand along his cheek, but it appeared that McKay would offer her no response. She turned in her chair toward the other bed. "And what about Radek?" she asked.

With a weary sigh, Beckett told her, "No change. The swelling is down. The latest MRI came clear and the monitors show there is acceptable brain activity." Shaking his head, the doctor told her, "I'm hopin' he'll be coming out of this soon."

"Will he be okay?" Weir asked.

Beckett shrugged unhappily. "With an injury such as his, it's never certain. I must tell you, he might have suffered some damage."

"Brain damage?" Weir repeated sorrowfully.

"Aye, it's a strong possibility, I'm afraid. But, there's a chance that he'll be fine," he added, trying to sound positive.

She moved across to Zelenka, watching the still face of the Czech – wishing he'd awaken – wishing and praying that he'd be okay. To lose the brilliant scientist would be devastating to all of them; he brought such a lively spark to the science team, and was one of the most decent people she'd ever known.

"Will he remember what happened?" Weir asked.

"There's no tellin'," Beckett replied. "But we can hope so – for both of their sakes."

**CHAPTER 15: LIKE A CHIHUAHUA**

Ford didn't know what to do. It seemed wherever he went, there was the quiet jabbering of people going on about what had happened on P6M-301, especially now that McKay had admitted to everything that had previously been mere speculation, adding on the final damning bit of evidence that the self-proclaimed 'Smartest Man in the Galaxy' had deliberately pushed Merritt directly under a falling archway.

Aiden didn't believe it – how could any of it be true? Yes, McKay had been yelling at Merritt. Yes, He'd called Dr. Zelenka back. And yes, Merritt had been found under the remains of an archway. But the rest of it… it just wasn't like the Doc. Sure, McKay was arrogant as hell, but Ford also realized – knew in his heart – that McKay wouldn't let anyone get hurt if he could stop it.

And oddest of all, nobody seemed interested in affixing the blame on one Aiden Ford. He was perplexed by that, had been prepared to take the brunt of the force, but there had been nothing aimed at him. He had been in charge, after all. But, it was as if the scientists from Merritt's team had a vendetta against McKay. It was as if they'd been ready and waiting for some great failing so that they could go after him. And McKay had nothing to use for defense.

The doctor was too confused and weak to protect himself; Sheppard and Teyla were gone; Zelenka was incapacitated, and what help could Ford provide?

He'd tried to speak up on McKay's behalf – to shut up Burnaby and Powell, but now that Kavanagh had joined them, their rumors became unstoppable. He'd pulled Kavanagh aside, tried to talk sense into him, but the big scientist had scoffed at him, throwing the evidence back at him. McKay had condemned himself. "If we were on Earth," Kavanagh groused, "He'd be headed to electric chair. Instead, he'll probably get a medal." And he sniffed disdainfully, and continued on his course.

Could he order the trouble-mongers to shut up? Not likely. Weir had yet to declare this a criminal case, much to Kavanagh's disgust, so there was no legal recourse to hush anyone. Threats didn't seem to work – the scientists would just give him a smug look and walk away. Hell, they all knew he could do nothing to stop them.

Dr. Weir had attempted to quiet the rumors, the innuendos. She was met with nods and smiles as people seemed to acquiesce with her request, but the moment her back was turned, the whispering continued.

It maddened the young lieutenant that he could do nothing to silence any of it. No matter how he tried to quell it, he still heard the snickering comments, the gossip, the conjectures. He felt like a Chihuahua yapping at a Great Dane for all his efforts.

So he found other things to do. He'd collected Moody's effects, setting them aside for his parents. There wasn't much, but he did his best to gather everything and considered a letter to include. "Sorry Mr. And Mrs. Moody, but your boy, Joe, broke his neck on my watch. He talked a lot about sailing but never said much about you." No, he couldn't write it now… not now.

He spent as much time as he could in the infirmary. Beckett had been rather patient with him – where he'd been more than a bit abrupt with some of the other visitors. Burnaby and Powell had been banned from visiting Dr. Stanley again. The ban didn't stop Kavanagh and some of the others from trying to gain entrance.

Beckett made sure Ford received proper meals, would check on him, talk to him while he sat at the bedside, but really the doctor was far too busy to spend a lot of time just hanging out.

Aiden tried talking to McKay and Zelenka, but ran out of words. McKay said little, and was asleep more often than awake. When Rodney was awake, Ford found little he could say – he ended up blathering about nothing. McKay responded so quietly to him, using so few words, it was impossible to keep a conversation going. _Not at all like him,_ Ford realized, _not at all right._

And when McKay was asleep, Ford tried to keep chatting, but he was never the type to just 'talk' without anyone responding to him. So he sat – saying nothing most of the time.

Zelenka had yet to awaken. Some of the other scientists had come to sit with Zelenka, fellow Czechs, they spoke to Radek in his native tongue, and others who came by just because they liked him. Few came to see McKay – Grodin, Weir, Beckett … once that shy Japanese girl poked her head in the room, but she spooked and left when she saw Ford was already there.

Aiden wondered if just sitting silently did any good at all. But still, he sat and waited, talking sometimes, even if it was just to Beckett, Maria, Claire or one of the other nurses – because it was better than trying to fight the insidious gossip.

And for every moment he stayed with McKay, Ford felt that the rumor mill was being allowed to spin out of control. If he were out in the city, maybe he could do something to stem it. He felt like a coward – felt like a little dog – felt powerless -- and counted the hours until Sheppard would return.

**CHAPTER 16: LIKE A DUST GEEBLER**

Shuffling, Sheppard managed to press open the tent flap as he moved through the opening. He paused, and his gaze fell upon his cot. The thing suddenly looked damn comfortable to him suddenly. A contented smile graced him at the mere sight of it. A jab of a finger at his back, and, with a grimace, he moved forward, letting the others in.

They stumbled and groaned and half-fell onto their respective beds. And for a moment, nobody spoke.

John zoned out, staring at a dust bunny on the floor. He wondered if they called them 'dust bunnies' on the Capilanos home world and he figured they didn't. _Dust geeblers,_ he decided, remembering a rodent-like animal that had been pointed out to him during their trek of yesterday morning. _Damn… was it really only yesterday that they'd come here? _"Dust geeblers," he said out loud, feeling as if his head were full of them.

"What was that, Major?" Bates asked as he yawned.

"Nuttin'," Sheppard responded quickly, glancing to Travis who sat hunched on his cot, holding a stack of papers to his chest, eyes tightly shut. "Still got all of it, doctor?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," was all Travis could mutter in return. He looked about ready to keel over.

"Maybe we should put it somewhere safe?" Bates tried.

Shaking her head, Teyla returned, "There would be no need to worry about theft."

"Theft?" Bates retorted. "Hell, I'm worried that Orin is gonna fall on the thing and smudge it all. Then we'd have to start from scratch."

At those words, Orin's eyes shot open and the engineer pulled the pile of papers from his chest to stare at them. "They're fine," he told them. "Perfectly fine."

Still, Sheppard stood and crossed the short distance, taking the papers from Travis and turning them so he could see them correctly. There, on a series of oversized pages, written in Ancient, Capilano and English, was the contract that would control how the barter would be meted out. The Capilanos, they'd learned, were sticklers. They hated to be misunderstood and this was their answer to that issue – clarity – everything written out for all to see in their native languages and their common language.

Oh, Teyla had been aware of that fact, had tried to explain it, and they'd specifically brought Travis along due to his knowledge of contracts, law and the Ancient language, but no one had been quite prepared for the intensity that the Capilanos brought to all things drawn up on paper.

They'd struggled over half the day, getting everything down correctly, each party writing in their own languages first, then translating the text to Ancient as the common language. Thankfully, they'd come to an agreement early on that the Athosian language wouldn't be required – but that took almost an hour of discussion before they came to that conclusion.

It wasn't that they distrusted others, Teyla assured her teammates, they just wanted to ensure that each party interpreted their own contract correctly.

The two 'Ancient' contracts would be compared for discrepancies. The differences would be corrected on one or the other text and the whole thing would start again. It was a fairly simple exchange really, food crops for medicine and technology, but the devil was in the details and it took a good part of the day to get their respective contracts to match acceptably.

Then, they had to do it all over again because Chilliwhack had brought up some contingencies that threw the whole thing into question. Travis had argued that an amendment would suffice to add the extra information, but the Capilanos would have nothing to do with that. "It must be perfectly clear," they'd insisted. So they started again – each in their own language, then translating to Ancient and comparing the results … fixing words until the contracts matched. Then writing up the whole thing once again in ink on pretty parchment.

Travis argued that they should have started with a common contract, written in the Ancient language, and translated to their native tongues from there, but the Capilanos were insistent – start with the language you know best to ensure that both sides understood each other correctly. Ancient was too easy to misinterpret.

Then, after they'd thought all was said and done, there were more changes – just a little bit here and there – a sentence that needed to be inserted – a little addendum here – a date altered – and everything was thrown out again and restarted.

And once the newest version was agreed to, and properly inked, handwritten copies of the originals had to be made, and compared to the originals. When a grammatical error was found on the Capilano's original, all of the Capilano copies had to be rewritten – but thankfully the English and Ancient text stayed.

It was dark by the time the signatures finally hit the contracts, and the copies were divided up among the participants. John held their copies, gazing over the pretty Ancient symbols, then the careful hand of Travis' English text, and finally the Capilano language that looked like a mess of chickens had run all over the page.

Yawning, he stepped to his backpack, and brought out a tube. He curled the contracts and inserted them into the document carrier, and returned it to his bag. "Done," he decided before taking three steps and falling back onto his incredibly comfortable cot.

He watched his exhausted companions for a few moments. Travis was rubbing his sore hands, eyes closed again. Bates sat forward, arms resting on his lap, hands dangling between his knees. Teyla yawned. They were a fair portrait of exhaustion.

"Teyla, I hate to ask," John started. "But, what's up for tomorrow."

"The Feast of Completion," Teyla told him, nodding as if she were already half asleep.

"Urgh," Travis responded.

"Hell," Bates voiced.

"Dancing?" John asked.

Teyla shuddered. "Thankfully, no. A morning feast will complete the negotiation."

"Good eatin'?" Sheppard asked, remembering the tasty doughnuts of that morning.

Teyla smiled. "The Capilanos are well known for their culinary skills. We shall eat well. It shall be a time of relaxing and saying our goodbyes."

"I'm all for goodbyes," Bates commented.

"Mrrpph," Travis got out before he fell to one side on his cot.

Sheppard gazed where Orin had fallen, wondering if he should check to see if the engineer was all right, but Travis was already snoring. "Figure he has a good idea," he spoke.

"Yeah," Bates said with a yawn, as he curled onto his side on his cot without saying another word.

Teyla continued to nod as Sheppard unlaced his boots and stripped down to his civvies. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should do it elsewhere, what with Teyla right there, but she was too tired to even see at the moment. Ready for bed, he climbed under his covers, turned off his light, and began his last night on the Capilano world. He lay in the bed for some time, his mind too numb to even try sleeping at first. He glanced toward Teyla to ensure that she'd eventually gotten herself horizontal. Her light was off, and he didn't see her sitting and nodding any longer, so he hoped for the best.

_This is one crappy mission_, he decided. _Could think of a dozen places I'd rather be – like back at Atlantis -- back at Atlantis for sure._ It hit him again, how much he wanted to be there. He realized that it wasn't just to get away from this place either – from the wild dancing, to the too-damn-serious negotiations and the constant revisions – he just needed to be … home.

He sat up for a moment, feeling his weariness tug at him, and looked out across the dark tent. What was up? He almost stood, put his boots on, and marched out. Yet, his eyes strayed to his bag where the completed contracts were housed. The contracts were signed, but the negotiations weren't officially over yet. They'd leave in the morning, after the ceremonial breakfast and the hugs goodbye.

He nodded, satisfied, and decided that would be good enough – still, it was some time before he fell asleep and he never lost the feeling that he really should be in Atlantis at that moment.

**CHAPTER 17: DOG EARED**

It was late. The infirmary was quiet in the night. Visitors had departed and McKay was left alone in the silence. He missed Ford, now that he was gone. Funny, but the young man's quiet presence had made him feel a bit better.

He sighed, staring up at the dim ceiling above him. A nurse was at her station, idly reading a book. He could hear the pages flipping and he counted the seconds between each turn, trying to decide how quickly she read. She was either a fast reader, or maybe the typeface was large.

Miserable and lonely, Rodney could only wait. He turned his head slowly, careful not to alert the nurse. Dr. Stanley was asleep at her kitty-corner bed on his left. He turned to the right to check on Zelenka, finding him as still as ever.

He watched the Czech for several long moments – watched and waited – but Radek only breathed slowly and consistently, showing no sign of coming out of his state. _Sorry,_ he thought. _Radek, I'm sorry. I don't know why I wouldn't let you leave. I wish I did. I wish I could justify my actions but it's all gone. I wish you had a good reason to be like that. I wish, at least, that the device was worth the sacrifice, but they're finding nothing. It was all for nothing – and I'm so sorry._

And still, Zelenka didn't move and Rodney had to look away.

Beyond Radek's bed, the nurse quietly read – her name was Claire, Rodney remembered, Claire Mosley, and he was proud he'd been able to remember that. _Never been good with names_, he reminded himself. _I can hold the answers to a thousand questions in my head, can solve the most complex puzzles, but can't put names and faces together. Just goes to show… I'm not a people person. Not good with people._

He blinked slowly, feeling as weary as hell, but unable to really sleep. If he slept, he'd only dream about what happened. It was better that he stayed awake – that way he could mull it over – try to figure out everything he'd done wrong. Maybe he could justify it all if he thought about it often enough. He had a lot to work out.

He'd made so many mistakes since they'd arrived at Atlantis -- plenty – there was Gall and Abrams, of course. So many things to weigh heavily on him, and in the quiet of the night he could think about them – think about every wrong move he'd made. And now there was this… this horrible incident to add to his responsibilities.

Maybe if he were just able to get up and around, he'd feel better. He could get back to work and forget about all this – not have to lie right next to Radek and know, every second of the day, that Zelenka was getting no better. If he was more of a man, he could get up out of this bed and leave -- but he was so tired.

Claire flipped another page, and McKay wondered if she was speed-reading or maybe just skimming pages. He couldn't tell the title of the book – but there were only so many available on the station. They'd formed a library of sorts in one of rooms near the mess, and anyone willing to sacrifice their own books was welcome to leave it there for others to read.

McKay had held onto his own personal library – he wasn't about to let people mistreat his few novels – to dog-ear them and break their spines. That wasn't the way to treat books, and he wouldn't let his be abused. Books should be treated with care. Besides, he hadn't had a chance to read them yet himself.

Claire kept reading, turning the pages too quickly. Maybe she'd read the book before and was just going through it again. That made sense. He never read the same book twice – capable of committing an entire novel to memory, there was no point in going through it again. It wasn't as if he didn't understand it the first time.

_Why revisit something when you already understand everything about it?_

_You know, you really should put your books in the library. It isn't as if you'll have any time to read them. Who cares if they bend back the covers and mutilate them? Let them go._

He sighed again, quietly so that Claire wouldn't hear. He was tired. He was so damn tired. So he stared at the ceiling and tried to figure it all out. _Why? Why did I do it?_

**CHAPTER 18: PILL**

Ford sighed as we waited for sleep to find him. He still felt like hell. Maybe he should take some of the sleeping pills Beckett had given him the previous night. He gazed at them, spotting the bottle on his nightstand. _I could really use the sleep._

Everything had turned out badly. The mission on P6M-301 had been his responsibility. He was supposed to keep the scientists safe, to bring everyone back alive and well, and he'd failed – he'd failed spectacularly.

Moody and Merritt were gone, casualties. There was nothing else he could do for them. He was a good enough soldier to understand that sometimes lives are lost. It was never an easy pill to swallow, but it was a fact of life. Sometimes, soldiers died. Sometimes civilians died, too.

He could have done something to save them. If he were to do it again, surely, he would have been able to get everyone out – alive and unhurt. But he couldn't rewrite history. All he could do was deal with the present – try to fix the current situation. But how?

Dr. Zelenka still hadn't awakened – what else could he do besides wait for him? It sucked, Ford knew, it really sucked and that was about all he could say on the matter. Zelenka had to be getting better – had to be – and it was only a matter of time before the Czech awoke. And he'd be fine, right? He'd be perfectly fine.

Dr. McKay seemed to be getting worse, which made no sense at all. All day, the doctor seemed to be falling into a depression, and Ford found he could do nothing to lift him from it. It wasn't as if he could do much. "Sorry, Doc," he muttered to the room. "Maybe tomorrow things will get better."

The Major would be home in any case – Sheppard would fix things. He smiled slightly with this realization. Tomorrow --

Glancing again to the bottle, Ford sighed and sat up. He grabbed the prescription and opened the bottle, letting two pills fall into his hand. _Tomorrow's anther day_, he decided.

_It has to get better._

--------------------  
_TBC - poor woobies_


	6. Part Six

**MISCONSTRUED - Part VI** _- by NotTasha_  
_tee hee... thanks for the delicious feedback. _

**CHAPTER 19: LIKE MUM USED TO MAKE**

Beckett blew out a breath as he leaned over his breakfast in the conference room. Dr. Weir sat across from him, and had asked for this meeting – a chance to sit quietly and talk before the morning activities took them away. "He's not doing so well," the Scot admitted.

"I thought Rodney was recovering?" Elizabeth responded, poking at her plate of scrambled lookoo eggs from M77-336 and some sort of Athosian sausage.

"Aye," Beckett responded, spreading a marmalade-like substance on his toast. "He was, but he's been making little progress. I think he's still in a lot of pain, but hasn't said much about it."

"You're giving him something for that, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Beckett replied. "But honestly, he needs to be awake more than he is. I've cut back as much as I'd dare, just to keep him lucid, but it doesn't seem to help, and he won't increase the dosage." He sighed and muttered, "Stubborn man."

"You won't let him suffer?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, Lord no," Beckett assured. "It's the last thing I'd do. I'm just concerned about him, that's all. He's been so… lethargic. Not eating well either."

Weir looked concerned. "That's not like him."

With a weary sigh, Beckett said, "It's just light liquids now, and he barely touches them." He bit into his toast and grimaced. "The marmalade isn't like home," he muttered, waving the bread for emphasis. "The Gandakans just haven't got a knack for it." He took another bite, seemed to weigh his comment and perhaps decided that it wasn't so bad, and then he continued. He went on about the specifics of McKay's situation as he ate and as Elizabeth stared at her plate. The surgery to repair the internal bleeding had gone well. The fracture of his arm would heal nicely. The concussion seemed to be fading. But McKay was still having difficulties. "Troubling," Beckett stated. "He just isn't getting better."

Then he explained briefly about Zelenka – there was little to add – the Czech still hadn't come to. And two full days had passed – today started their third. "It's not good," Beckett commented. "The longer he remains unconscious, the lower his chances of ever awakening."

Letting out a sigh, Elizabeth watched Beckett tuck in, mopping up his sunny-side-up eggs with his toast as he went. She couldn't manage a bite of her own meal, and she continued to push it around. "What's their prognosis?" she asked finally.

"For Radek, we wait. I just hope not too long. And Rodney? He's hardly ever awake, or at least doesn't let us know if he is," Carson said unhappily. "He just doesn't seem to have any spirit in him. Not like him at all."

"No, it's not," Weir admitted. "Few people in this world have as much 'spirit' as he does."

"Aye," Beckett admitted. "That he does." He exhaled and stated, "Finally sent Silvia back to her room – that was last of Merritt's team. I'm just hopin' that if those bloody fools stay out of my infirmary, he might start gettin' better. He's had to listen to them all this while. And I doubt they were sayin' anythin' friendly regardin' him. I'm thinkin' that may have a lot to do with his current disposition."

Weir nodded, feeling disgusted with herself. "We have trouble, don't we?" she asked. "The rumors are flying."

"Been hearin' it all over," Beckett responded. "Can't exactly stop it when everyone's just statin' the facts as we got 'em."

Giving up on her meal, Weir reached for her mug. "The problem is, the facts just don't add up. They just don't seem right."

"Even though Rodney's admitted to everythin'?"

"Even so."

With a smile, Beckett stated, "Glad to hear you say that." He nodded to her plate. "You should eat."

"Not exactly hungry," she said with a shrug.

"Doctor's orders," Beckett responded. "Let's have a compromise. You eat the toast and the eggs. I'll take care of the meat."

She smiled at the barter and nodded, pushing the plate toward him so that he could retrieve the sausage. "So you've become rather fond of Athosian sausage."

Beckett laughed softly. "Reminds me of the bangers me mum would make. Hers tasted horrible, too."

Drawing her plate back in front of her, Elizabeth stared down at the remaining breakfast until Beckett cleared his throat. She looked up at him, seeing him sitting with a chuck of sausage on his fork, waiting for her. "Go on," he encouraged.

She smiled, glad for his friendship, and started her breakfast.

**CHAPTER 20: A JELL-O WORLD**

Time seemed to trickle past, coming in dribs and drabs. McKay spent most of his time silently listening to what was going around him. He hurt, from his head to his chest to his arm. The pain in his gut had lessened, but everything else still ached. His mind was already too clouded and he didn't need anything else messing with it, so he'd resisted using the painkiller as much as possible.

The doctor had been by often, checking on him and Radek. McKay would steal glances at the Czech when one of the medical staff attended him, wanting to see if Zelenka was going to be okay – they were on the third day and still Radek hadn't moved at all. That couldn't be good, McKay knew. It wasn't good at all.

So damn disgusted with himself, McKay could only wait and watch. _Come on, Radek,_ he thought. _Come on, show them up. You got to wake up. _But he didn't.

Beckett and other members of the medical staff were constantly bothering Rodney, forcing him to wake up, asking questions about how he was feeling. The nurse brought by another tray – this time it was yellow Jell-O and chicken broth. He might have eaten some if the Jell-O had been cherry or blue -- or the broth had been beef, but he didn't have the stomach for yellow or chicken at the moment.

He felt as if he'd been trapped in a Jell-o world at that moment, all formless and pointless.

He was responding less and less as time went by. He ignored Beckett's pleas, and closed himself off against the nurses – even the feisty Hispanic who was kinda sexy.

People came and went. Various scientists from his staff visited. It was nice to see them. They all seemed so eager for him to speak to them, but what could he possibly say? They usually ended up talking about their latest projects, but didn't seem to be asking for his input in the matters, so he really didn't understand the point of it. "Everything is going fine," they'd say. "We got it under control. Just rest up and feel better."

Some of Zelenka's friends came by. It was good to hear them talk to Radek. Grodin stopped in every day, filling him in on everything that was going on in the Gateroom, told him about the lack of progress with the device. _Damn… damn… if only that thing proved useful,_ McKay thought. _Maybe all of this would have been worthwhile. But it's worthless– why… why did I risk so much to obtain it? What could I have possibly seen?_

Elizabeth visited. Ford sat beside him often, struggling for things to say, sounding lonely and rather sad. It was a pity because the young man should have been elsewhere else – where someone might watch out for him. He wished he could think of something to say to Aiden, some decent sort of response that might make the young lieutenant feel better, but he had nothing to offer.

He wished he could tell Aiden how much he appreciated his presence if nothing else. If he were lucky they'd just go away and find some worthwhile way to spend their time.

Time passed so damn slowly – three days already, and he wondered how much longer it would take.

**CHAPTER 21: LIKE A TIGER, SET ON A KILL**

John Sheppard stepped through the event horizon with a grin and an armload of supplies. "Good Afternoon, one and all," he called out. "I bring gifts from the Capilanos!" He indicated the crate in his arms, then the tube tucked inside it, "And a contract for more in the near future!"

He was smiling ear-to-ear, feeling damn good about himself. Sure, the breakfast feast that stretched into the afternoon helped. The Capilanos were damn fine cooks. Then, the ceremonial massages did wonders to relieve his cramped muscles. When bathing at the hot springs was mentioned, he couldn't say 'no'. He didn't even mind all the hugging just before he slipped through the Gate to return home. When all was said and done (and behind them), it was a damn successful mission.

Travis, Teyla and Bates came alongside him, and they stood together, looking pretty smug about their good fortune.

"Welcome back," Grodin called, smiling tightly at them from above. "It went well?"

"The results are satisfactory," Teyla informed them. "Our agreement will bring much needed supplies to Atlantis throughout the coming year, and the Capilanos have been generous in their negotiations."

"Yeah, we got food," Bates agreed. He hefted the duffle from his shoulder and settled it to the ground. "Their granola isn't half bad."

Travis displayed a basket of baked goods. "We'll need a MALP to haul everything out when they make their first delivery," he said with a grin. "We won't need to worry about starving for a while."

"Excellent," Grodin responded, still looking uncomfortable.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. Everyone in the room seemed tense – uneasy. "What?" he called up. "What's going on?"

Grodin looked on them with a concerned expression. "You need to talk to Dr. Weir," he stated.

_No… no… _something was entirely wrong about that response. Sheppard dropped his load and came up the stairs, looking like a tiger set on a kill. "Talk to Weir? Why?"

"I've called her to the Gateroom," Grodin went on. "She will want to talk to you before you go."

"Go where?" Sheppard continued, reaching the balcony.

Grodin stepped back. "Anywhere," he responded weakly.

"What the hell's going on?" Sheppard pressed. Something was wrong – definitely wrong – and he had the indisputable realization that everyone in the room was expecting some sort of explosion out of him. "Grodin?" Sheppard continued.

Peter held up his hands. "Dr. Weir is the one who should tell you," he stated.

_Oh God…_ Sheppard knew … knew for certain that something had happened. He scowled at Grodin and started to come toward him again, ready to get the answer out of him some way or another – when a voice called from behind him.

"Major!"

He turned, seeing Elizabeth emerging from one of the hallways. "What's going on?" he tried the question on her, stalking toward the expedition's leader.

"My office," she commanded, leading the way.

Sheppard glanced down to the others of his group. Teyla, Travis and Bates still stood around the hard-earned supplies. The Athosian looked up at him with an anxious expression – and he followed Weir into the room.

The door shut as she settled herself behind her desk, and Sheppard took a chair. "It's good to have you home, John," she started.

"Good to be here," he responded tepidly.

"I take it the negotiations went well."

He regarded her bland comments and returned in a clipped voice, "We got everything we came for – and more. Had to give less than we figured, too."

"Everyone happy in the end?"

"Except for some blisters from the dancing, Travis' writer's cramp and Teyla's ego getting a bit bent out of shape by the girl who thought her hair looked like a pony's mane." His words came quickly. "Now, that we got that crap out of the way… what's going on?"

Weir folded her hands on her desk. "There was an accident on P6M-301."

"That the planet with those giant dragonflies?" he tried.

"No…" Weir started, taking a breath to continue. She was cut off before she could speak again.

John was on his feet. "Goddamn it, that's the planet where McKay and the others went, isn't it?"

"Yes," Elizabeth responded.

"What happened? What happened to him?" There was no doubt that this involved McKay somehow – because didn't it always?

"There was a cave-in at the underground site."

"Son of a …" Sheppard turned sharply, pacing toward the door.

"Sgt. Moody and Dr. Merritt were killed."

He stopped moving, laying one hand against he doorframe to steady himself.

"Rodney and Radek were hurt. They were trapped in the chamber for some time."

And he pressed his head against the frame and he asked, "How bad?"

"Rodney required surgery," Elizabeth explained. "He's on his way to recovery, but is having a slow time of it. Radek is still unconscious."

"Still?"

"It's been three days and according to…"

"Three days?" Sheppard's eyes widened and he spun around to face her.

"Yes," Weir responded. "And they've been…"

"Three goddamn days?" Sheppard leaned on her desk, looming over her. " And nobody told me?"

"I'm telling you now," Weir replied, trying to keep her voice even.

"No… no…" Sheppard punctuated the exclamations with a fist to the desk. "I just spent the last three days dancing, messing with papers, filling my face, and getting a goddamn massage. Meanwhile, one of my team was injured? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about our future, John," Weir answered evenly, folding her hands before her. "I was thinking about the future of Atlantis. If we were to disturbed the negotiations, then the agreements would have fallen through and we wouldn't have been given a second chance."

John scowled. "How long did it take to get them out of that cave-in?" he demanded to know. "How long?"

"A little over four hours," Weir told him.

Nearly shaking with fury and frustration, John growled. "And you thought it was fine that I was dancing like a moron while they were trapped and injured in that hole? I should have been there!"

"Your presence wouldn't have changed things if we were to recall you."

"You got that wrong!"

"We couldn't risk losing this trading partner…"

"Don't talk to me about risk," Sheppard shot back as he turned toward the door. "I'd take that goddamn risk. We'd find another goddamn trading partner."

"It wasn't up to you to make that decision."

"You shouldn't have been making decisions about MY TEAM!" He slammed his hand onto the panel to open the door. "Infirmary?" he demanded to know as the door opened.

Weir stood – "John, wait!"

But he didn't wait for her confirmation and was through the door. "Teyla!" he shouted as he moved through the corridor. He heard her storm up the stairs and she fell in at his side even before Elizabeth joined them.

"Rodney's been hurt," John informed the Athosian.

Teyla looked stunned. "Is he badly injured?"

"Yes." He glared over his shoulder at Weir. "It happened three days ago and he's still in the infirmary."

"Why is it that we were not informed?" Teyla asked, coming to an abrupt halt to face Weir.

"Because of the goddamned granola!" John barked, stopping to give Weir a vicious look.

Elizabeth was starting to sound like a broken record. "It was for the future of Atlantis. We had to ensure good relations with the Capilanos, and so the negotiations could not be interrupted. They would not continue speaking to us if we did."

Teyla looked confused and then angry. "The Capilanos are not malevolent, Dr. Weir. If you were to come to them and inform them of the situation, they would have understood. They value friendship above all and would recognize our need to return if a companion was hurt."

Weir dropped her gaze and a sullen look came over her. "I didn't know," she sighed. "I asked Halling. He said that we shouldn't interrupt the ceremonies."

Teyla shook her head. "Halling is not fond of the Capilanos. They find his size amusing. They make him perform the … Dance of the Spinning Scarves. His judgment is clouded regarding them."

"I wish I'd known," Weir whispered, all attempts at looking stern falling away. "Because I really could have used you here. Rodney really could have used that."

John furrowed his brow, noticing the people who moved along the hallway – some looked a little smug, others looked relieved to see him. "What do you mean?"

"Things have been rough on him," she said quietly.

"How?"

Weir nodded toward her office again. "Let me explain everything," she pleaded.

John turned toward the infirmary, wanting… needing to get there immediately to check on his teammate… _Damn it! Why'd I even go to that hot springs? The damn ceremonies were over hours ago, but I had to go the fucking hot springs!_

"John," Weir repeated. "Please."

Realizing that it would be best to come armed with the facts, he nodded curtly. "I'll give you five minutes," he told Weir and stalked back toward the office with Teyla right behind him. "Not a minute more."

**CHAPTER 22: THE CRAYON SNAPPER**

If anything, John Sheppard was even angrier when he left Weir's office for the second time. After listening to what had gone on over the past three days, he wouldn't wait another second to reach the infirmary. His footsteps rang out in the hallways, and a path was cleared before him. Teyla, walking a little quieter, did nothing to dispel the furious mood as they stormed the infirmary.

He was ready to bang some heads together.

Sheppard thought about the four hours that it took to find McKay and Zelenka. Was McKay awake during that time? God, he must have been in a world of hurt. Hurt, trapped, alone, probably scared out of his mind. Sheppard wished he could have been there – God, he SHOULD have been there.

Then, three days with the rumor mill grinding away and McKay getting chewed up in it, without anything to deflect their accusations. How could McKay have confirm this story? _Goddamn, his mind must be messed up._ Sheppard knew how the allegations must have affected the man, knew how it would have hurt him.

Weir had carefully explained to him that some of the scientists from Merritt's team were spreading their innuendos – but she'd made it clear that they'd said nothing beyond what McKay had confirmed. Her look had told him – "Don't go after them." _Well, we'll see._

And Weir had told him that Rodney wasn't getting any better… hardly speaking. That should have been a clue to the whole world that something was wrong with McKay. And Carson thought he was spending all this time pretending to sleep so he wouldn't have to talk to anyone… _damn it… damn it all to hell!_

And not eating? What the hell was the matter with these people? Are they totally blind?

Teyla kept pace with him, the same strained and intense look on her face.

Beckett was waiting for them as they entered the infirmary. "Major!" he cried, "Teyla, it's so good to see both of you back." He smiled, relieved as all hell. "It's been bloody awful and…"

"Where is he?" Sheppard asked.

Beckett nodded the way. "He may be sleeping," he warned. "But I can't say for certain because…"

But Sheppard had already left the doctor and was making a beeline toward back of the room. Ford was sitting in the chair between the last beds, talking quietly. He scrambled to his feet at the sight of his CO. "Sir!" he greeted cheerfully.

Coming to a stop, Sheppard regarded the occupants. McKay was haggard and drawn out. He seemed thinner. Part of his face was black-and-blue as if someone had clobbered him. There were dark circles around his eyes but he was otherwise pale as hell. His left arm was encased in a cast, and an untouched food tray waited beside him.

Zelenka was quiet, unmoving. Ford didn't even look very good. There was an anxiousness about the young man that was just unnatural.

Since Sheppard hadn't spoken, Ford filled him in. "I've been here for about an hour now, and he hasn't said anything in a while."

Beckett, who'd followed, examined one of the monitors and shrugged. "He's been in and out a lot. Could be he's just restin' his eyes. You awake Rodney? Rodney?"

Fed up with everything, and not wanting to waste any more time, Sheppard leaned in and grasped a bit of Rodney's good arm between his finger and thumb, and twisted it, pinching hard.

Rodney's eyes shot open with a "Son of a…!" He looked up with a frightened expression, and then focused on Sheppard. "You pinched me!"

"You were pretending to sleep!" Sheppard shot back.

"I wasn't… I was… dozing, okay?"

"Dozing… while Ford's just sitting here twiddling his thumbs, talking to you… waiting for you to answer him."

"He didn't have to stay," McKay answered petulantly. "I didn't ask him to sit there." And then he started coughing, a rough, painful sounding cough that got Beckett moving in a hurry.

"It's all right, Rodney," the Scot crooned softly as he moved in to help. "It's gonna pass in a moment."

Ford stood beside the Major and said softly, "Good to have you back, sir."

"Yeah," Sheppard returned, crossing his arms.

"Things have been pretty crappy here," Ford told him.

"I heard. How're you holding up?"

"Me, sir? I'm fine."

Sheppard glanced toward the lieutenant, then back toward McKay. "You don't look so good," he commented.

"It's just…" Ford started. He tried again, "I haven't been able to manage much of anything. I tried to shut some of those idiots up, but it didn't seem to do any good."

"They're still talking?"

"Yes, sir. I should've been out there, trying to stop it. But, I thought I should be here with him."

Sheppard gave him an approving nod. "I'm glad you stayed with him," he assured.

Beckett was still messing with McKay and whatever he was doing seemed to be helping. McKay was resting on his pillows again, even paler than before, gasping for breath. He looked absolutely horrible, Sheppard decided – and it had been three days.

"Can you all give me a minute?" Sheppard asked, gazing about at Beckett, Teyla and Ford. "I need to talk to McKay… in private." All stepped back except Teyla.

She leaned beside the injured man, smiled warmly and said, "It is good to see you."

"Ah…" McKay paused, not sure what to make of her closeness. "Likewise."

"I am sorry we were not here earlier," she stated serenely.

"Well," McKay responded. "You can't be everywhere. You have to make choices sometimes. Anyone could understand that."

"Yes," Teyla replied. "We make our choices. I would have preferred to have been here." And she leaned further forward. McKay gave her a startled look, trapped and unsure of what she was doing. He tried to press his head further into the pillow, but he couldn't get away. She touched her forehead against his and laid her hands gently on either side of his face. "It is good to see you," she repeated and stepped back to join the others.

Sheppard waited until Beckett ushered them away. McKay's gaze followed Teyla. Sheppard waited a moment after they'd left the area, waited for McKay to look at him, but his gaze continued to find something else to focus on.

"McKay," he said finally, as he dropped into the chair. "How's it goin'?"

Looking annoyed, but still not turning toward him, McKay answered, "How's it look?"

"Well, me, I've had a hell of a time. First of all, we went on the nature hike from hell, then spent the night dancing like morons. You would have hated it. It was like a really really bad version of Dance Fever without the judging at the end. Probably a good thing about the judging. I think I saw someone doing the Funky Chicken at one point – Bates maybe. Travis – I don't know what the hell he was doing – might have been the Electric Slide. The next day, well, you might have liked it – lots of nit picking and fussing about little tidbits of information. For me, it was like being dumped in a pit full of geeblers."

"Geeblers?"

"That's what I said. Gawddamn awful day. Worked poor Travis nearly to death with all that scribbling. I think Teyla just about choked one girl. Funny, because I thought Teyla liked the kid. The girl really seemed to be fascinated with Teyla's hair. Wanted to braid it, touch it, but Teyla almost slapped her. Anyway, at least we got to relax a bit on the last day, but that was small reward for the rest of it. The breakfast feast was pretty good eating."

"Hmmm," was all McKay would say.

"Speakin' a'which, what's with the runny Jell-O?" Sheppard inclined his head toward the tray.

McKay made a face. "It's yellow."

"What's wrong with yellow?"

"Lemon?"

"Oh, come on. There isn't any real lemon in it."

"You never know. And it tastes like death."

"Okay… no citrus flavor. That knocks out green and orange, too, doesn't it?"

Instead of answering, McKay sighed.

"You got any problems with red?"

"As long as it's cherry."

"Cherry then." Sheppard poked at the cold broth with a spoon. "I hate chicken broth," he muttered. "Carson has it made up from a powder, doesn't he? Crappy stuff. Maybe he still has some of the beef? It's better."

"That wouldn't be bad," McKay said, sighing again.

"Anyway… where was I?" Sheppard sat back, looking thoughtful. "Oh yeah, my last three days – I wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy."

"That'd be Koyla?" McKay tried, still not meeting his gaze.

"Naw, he was small potatoes. Bruce Lougheed was worse. Second grade bully. Used to hog all the crayons."

McKay chuckled softly, little more than a 'heh', but it was enough to pull him up short with a surprised gasp. The reaction made Sheppard think that McKay hadn't had any reason to try laughing during this time. McKay laid his good arm against his aching chest as he stated, "Somehow, I don't see you as the 'crayon' type."

"Oh, in second grade, I was an artist… a Master. I drew all the greats – the house, the dog, rainbows, the family – everything. Oh! Cars. Man, I loved drawing cars. My works were always stuck on the fridge. Mom was damn proud. But she always thought my cars looked like cows for some reason."

"But Bruce would steal all the crayons."

"Steal them and snap them to nubs. Didn't want anyone to have any fun. Ruined every one of them except black and white. Little bastard thought he had me, but I started drawing penguins, zebras, snowmen. Black cars with white stripes and big black wheels that didn't look anything like Holsteins. Cop cars in stealth mode -- no lights. Crap like that."

"He was your worst enemy because he stole your crayons."

"That and he beat on my best friend. I met him out behind the school one day and his bullying, crayon-snapping days ended."

McKay furrowed his brow, "And this is supposed to mean something to me?" he asked, irritated.

"I had to change schools after that. It was a big mess."

"Look, if you're telling me that you're going to have to fight my battles for me… I don't need it," McKay grumbled.

"You need somethin'," Sheppard responded. "You definitely need someone to straighten you out. You're not even telling Beckett about the goddamn Jell-O! That's not like you, McKay. If you're not pissing and moaning, something must be wrong. You won't even talk to Ford and he's been here for days."

McKay paused, and looked up at the major, ashamed. "You'll tell him I'm sorry about that, won't you? You'll tell him I appreciated it.'

"Tell him yourself."

"I'm… I'm just not up to it," McKay admitted quietly.

Leaning back, Sheppard looked at his friend again, taking in his unhealthy pallor. "You really look bad, did you know that?"

"Yes," McKay snapped back. "I am well aware of my appearance!"

"No, I don't mean physically, because, well, that's obvious. The rest of this crap – all this shit about what happened – you come off pretty badly."

"How? How do you know…?"

"Weir told me."

"Oh." McKay stopped talking, and his pale face took on a bleak expression. "I guess everyone else knows. It was only a matter of time before you heard." He paused a moment, before continuing, "I come off badly, huh? There's no helping that. I can't change what happened."

"Well, except that it's all ass backwards."

McKay shook his head against his pillow. "How would you know?" he said softly, closing his eyes. "You weren't there."

"I know crap when I hear it," Sheppard stated, "And the fact that you've agreed with all of it, well, I'm not sure if you were really there either." He glanced at Rodney, seeing him turning his head away with eyes closed. "Hey! None of that! No more of that sleep shit from you." And he jabbed a finger against his arm.

"Ow! Knock it off! I'm tired," McKay whined. "I'm just so tired."

There was no denying that the Canadian looked weary as hell, but Sheppard wasn't going to put up with it. He'd entered the game late and had too much ground to make up. "You can sleep later," he decided. "Right now, we're going to figure out what the hell went wrong."

"Everything," McKay said softly.

"You're not talking like yourself," Sheppard said. "You sound like some little baby that just gives up at the smallest problem. You're usually the guy who solves problems, who looks for problems just for the joy of fixing them."

Grimacing, McKay stated, "Sorry if I'm not myself, but I just sentenced three men to death. I really don't feel like having any fun."

"Three?" Sheppard asked, turning toward Zelenka. "Don't mean to disappoint you, Rodney, but he ain't dead."

"Might as well be," McKay murmured. "My fault…."

"So, let me get this straight. You caused the earthquake. And your magnificent mind brought down the ceiling and …"

"You can stop making fun of me," McKay snapped. "I really don't need that right now."

"I think you do. Because, you've been laying here for three days, listening to all the ass-hats blaming you, and believing them, for Christ's sake! You're not doing anything to correct them, and I _KNOW_ that this is all crap. Why don't you? And no one's been around to set you straight. Seems to me you need someone to smack you around a bit."

McKay's expression softened as he looked up at Sheppard, "But it _IS_ my fault. It is. I kept them down there too long. They wanted to leave, but I forced them to stay to remove that device. Merritt is dead because of me. I shoved him directly under that arch as it was coming down. I remember that!" he stated, as if to emphasis the one bit he truly could recall. "And Moody – he was coming to help us. And Radek – he wouldn't be like this if I hadn't called him back… if I hadn't taken the first safe place and made him go on to the second, carrying that damn thing. It's my fault that he was on the mission to begin with. It's all my fault, John…"

"You're wrong," John responded. "You got it all wrong."

The softly voiced, "no…" from behind John almost escaped both of their attention.

McKay frowned, confused by the word that seemed to come from nowhere. Sharply, Sheppard turned to the other bed, to find Zelenka turned toward them, blinking lethargically. "No," Radek repeated softly and closed his eyes again.

-------------------  
TBC - ta-da!


	7. Part Seven

**MISCONSTRUED** _- by NotTasha_  
_okay, we've reached the final roundup! Here we go with the last bits_

**CHAPTER 23: BACKS AND BUTTS**

There was a sudden burst of activity in the infirmary, as John called out for Beckett and his team. Rodney leaned toward the other bed, calling and trying to get Zelenka's attention, but Radek had gone silent again.

Beckett came back in a hustle, trailing Weir, Teyla and Ford with him, and a half-dozen folks from the medical team. They crowded around Zelenka's bed, making a tremendous fuss. Beckett kept saying, 'It's good, it's good…" even though Radek didn't make another peep.

Meanwhile, Sheppard stepped away from the crowded bed, coming around the other side of Rodney's. McKay was half on his side, twisted toward the other bed in an effort to see what was going on.

"Hey," John said, calling for attention.

McKay looked back at him, gasping, "I can't see anything." There were too many backs and butts blocking his way. He strained to turn further, but winced as the pressure against his busted ribs increased. "Aw, damn," he murmured as he wheezed painfully.

Gently, but firmly, Sheppard grasped McKay by the shoulders and leveraged him onto his back again. "Nothing's happening," Sheppard explained quietly as the buzz continued one-bed-over. He carefully settled the broken arm back on its pillow. "Beckett's as happy as a clam though. Seems like it's a good thing." He glanced up at the others, watching their movements around the Czech.

"He's coming around?" McKay asked.

"Yeah, seems to be. But, it looks like he's sleeping now." Turning his attention on McKay, Sheppard couldn't help but think how truly wretched Rodney appeared – it looked as if he'd been taken out behind a school and had the snot kicked out of him. "Hard business, waking up again."

"Yeah," McKay agreed, his eyelids drooping. He blinked and turned his head back toward the crowd. "He's going to be all right?" he asked.

"Sure," Sheppard responded, not knowing, but it was the only answer he cared to give at that moment.

Rodney nodded dumbly, his eyes hooded with exhaustion. "Good…" he murmured, "… good."

Seeing that McKay was fighting to remain awake, Sheppard told him, "Go to sleep, Rodney. No more faking it."

The almost-closed eyes opened. "You'll wake me up if he says anything else."

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed.

"'Cause if you don't… I'll come lookin' for you…"

"You do that."

Eyes closed again, and McKay said softly, his voice fading, "It's good to have you home, Major."

"Yeah," John agreed. "Good to be back." He watched Rodney for a few more minutes. The group around Radek's bed was breaking up. Everyone seemed cheerful as hell about what had happened, but Sheppard had yet to feel glad – no he wouldn't feel good until this whole mess was straightened out and they'd cleared up all the misunderstandings that had so shattered the Canadian.

**CHAPTER 24: QUESTIONS**

"Where am I?"

At the softly voiced question, Sheppard slid a marker into his book and set it aside. "You're in the infirmary, Radek."

"Major Sheppard?" Zelenka turned his head and looked toward him in confusion. His voice was soft and hoarse. "You're back?"

"Yeah," Sheppard responded brusquely. "Finally."

"Oh," Radek responded and then frowned, confused. "What happened?"

"You got caught up in a cave-in… and…"

"Yes…yes… I… Rodney!" The Czech's eyes opened wide with worry.

"He's okay," Sheppard assured. "He's right over here, sleeping." He patted the bed at his side.

Beckett had been pleased when he checked on McKay after assessing Zelenka. Apparently, the genius was finally getting some real sleep, something he hadn't gotten since he first awoke. And in the hours that followed, he remained sleeping deeply.

"How long have I been here?" Radek asked next.

"Three days," Sheppard responded. He glanced toward Maria, catching her attention. The nurse nodded, understanding, and bustled off to get the doctor on duty.

"Three days? Oh, that's so long."

"That's what I've been thinking. You've been worrying the hell out of everyone."

"Worry?" Zelenka repeated. "Yes, reason to worry." He blinked and squinted at Sheppard as if he couldn't quite focus on him.

The action concerned Sheppard for a moment, until he remembered the spectacles on the table beside him. He settled the book and picked up the glasses, handing them to the scientist. "You want these?" he asked, opening the frames.

"Yes, please," Zelenka responded, pulling one shaky hand from beneath the sheets. "Rodney is okay?" he asked again, as he settled the glasses on his nose.

"Got banged up pretty good, but he's going to pull through. Probably will do a lot better now that you're awake."

There was a commotion, and Maria came back, bringing that tall dark-skinned doctor with her. Sheppard stepped back, letting the man have access to the patient. Together, the nurse and doctor checked Radek over, asking questions – like 'what's your name?'… 'do you know where you are?" Sheppard listened intently, waiting for the tall doctor to ask, 'do you know my name?' so that Radek might supply the answer to the problem that had been plaguing John, but the question was never asked. _Damn_

As the hubbub continued, Sheppard moved closer to Rodney's bed and considered waking him as promised, but after seeing that the physicist he was resting so peacefully, the major decided against it. If this was the first real rest he'd gotten since this began, then McKay deserved to sleep just a little while longer unmolested.

The black doctor turned to him suddenly and asked in his deep, rich voice, "John, can you stay with Radek for a few minutes? We have to set up some equipment and will be right back."

"Sure… Doc," John responded, smiling weakly.

Doctor No-name gave him a big, warm, disarming smile and a slap on the shoulder, before he turned and walked away with Maria, going on about what needed to be done next. Maria, damn her, responded to him with a proper, "Yes, doctor." Too bad, because Sheppard was thinking that maybe the two of them were _gettin' it on_.

Moving back to the Czech's bed, he noted that Zelenka was still awake, but probably not for long. "Radek," he asked. "Do you remember anything about what happened? There's been a lot of crap being slung around and we really need to clear this up."

Zelenka narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. "I know…" Radek replied softly, fading. "He is not the only one who's been listening."

**CHAPTER 25: ANSWERS**

Zelenka was returned from the tests, and slept for the rest of the night. At sunrise, when the Czech awoke again, Beckett, Weir, Ford and Teyla joined Sheppard in the infirmary, along with Kavanagh, Burnaby and Powell, who'd also found out about Czech's recovery. Somehow, news always traveled like lightning through the facility.

When Radek was awake again, he peered up owlishly at them, looking apprehensive at the number of them. He wasn't the type that liked crowds.

Kavanagh, Burnaby and Powell stood across the foot of his bed. Beckett and Weir were on his right side, with Ford and Teyla at the left. Sheppard was between his people, sitting on McKay's bed, who slept – oblivious. John watched Burnaby, Powell and Kavanagh with a scowl. The three men squirmed a bit under the scrutiny – perhaps finally realizing that they were marked men.

"Are you sure you feel up to this right now, Radek?" Weir asked.

"Yes," was the response. "I've heard much of what was said here." Zelenka scowled. "It was frustrating that I couldn't say anything, that I could only listen to their... _drek_. Now, I can speak, so I will speak."

At that statement, Sheppard gripped the skin on McKay's arm and gave it a twist. McKay came awake with a little squeak, and blinked blearily at the ceiling before turning to Sheppard. "You pinched me," he stated huskily, "Again!" And he seemed to come to another realization as he added, "And you're sitting on my bed. Couldn't you find a chair…?"

"Shut up and listen," Sheppard returned in a low voice, barely moving his lips. "Time you heard this from someone else for a change."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Weir asked, not hearing them. "In the underground complex."

"It was as they said," Zelenka explained. "Rodney and Dr. Merritt were not … getting along. Rodney had discovered a panel when Alvin joined us. We found a device and were trying to remove it when the earthquake struck." He furrowed his brow, remembering. "Rodney demanded that we all leave immediately. Alvin would not go without the device. They argued. Dr. McKay made me leave, for my safety and to ensure all the others evacuated."

Zelenka glanced around at the group surrounding him, finally letting his gaze land on McKay, who slept beside him. He spoke softly, as if he didn't want to wake his friend, "Alvin would not leave without the device, so Rodney stayed to help him remove it, in spite of the earthquake."

"That's not right!" Burnaby shot back. "I heard him. I heard McKay screaming at Alvin to get the damn thing out of the wall. McKay wasn't helping, he was ordering."

"You, who know nothing, should not speak!" Zelenka snapped.

Zelenka continued with, "You heard what was said, but you misunderstood it all."

"I know what I heard," Burnaby continued, unaware. "And McKay was making Alvin stay to get that thing out." Powell nodded in agreement, and even Kavanagh added his own snide nod, despite the fact that he hadn't even been on the planet. "I heard the way McKay was shouting at Alvin," Burnaby included.

Annoyed with the interruption, Zelenka stated, "The earth was shaking! Alvin would not hurry! That is reason to shout!" He glared at the three scientists by his feet, and went on, "The earthquake stopped. Dr. McKay called me back. I went. Rodney was disconnecting the device while Alvin held it. Alvin could not hold it alone and Rodney's hands were busy." Zelenka held up his own hands as if to demonstrate. "He would not leave Alvin, and Alvin would not leave the device. It was the only way to save him."

"We removed it… all three of us," Zelenka added, his eyes closing a moment and he winced against his headache. "We tried to go, but again, Alvin would not leave. He wanted to stay and look for further devices. Rodney was angry, yes. He pushed Alvin from the room." Shaking his head in disbelief, Radek continued. "Alvin needed to be pushed to safety! The fool! _Blbec!_ Anyone could see we were in danger, but Alvin would not go!"

Burnaby and Powell straightened, ready to spill out a stream of what they thought about Zelenka's remarks. Sheppard began to stand, wanting to finally get his hands around their necks, but paused when Ford leaned toward the scientists and said in a low voice, "You interrupt him again, and you'll be the next ones in these beds. You understand me?"

Powell looked shocked. Burnaby opened his mouth a moment and turned toward Weir. The expedition leader reacted as if she hadn't heard the threat. Burnaby slammed his mouth shut in consternation. Kavanagh, at first looked stung, but that expression was replaced with his usually confident, smug expression as he decided that it was the others that were bawled out – he, again, came out smelling like a rose. Until he glanced at Sheppard.

Zelenka's voice became softer, as squinted and continued, "The shaking returned. Alvin, he stopped moving. Rodney tried to make him move, but he would not go. Rodney shoved him, yes. Shoved him to the exit. We had to get out or die." He stopped, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he looked to Weir. "It was horrible! _Strašný!_ The ceiling came down on poor Alvin. Boom!"

"There was nothing you could do?" Weir asked as kindly as she could.

Radek looked distraught. "Nothing. It was so fast. Horrible. I could not move. Rodney, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. There was a room that was fortified. Rodney brought us there. I could barely see. My glasses…" and he touched the frames as he spoke. "Were obscured. Rodney led the way. He found the alcove and he put me into it, and he went away. I didn't know where he had gone." Radek's voice had grown faster as he related the whole incident. "Everything was shaking. Rocks were falling. I was calling 'Rodney! Rodney!' and he said, 'keep your head down' and I did. I was so afraid!"

Zelenka glanced to Rodney's bed, but the Canadian had closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he listened.

"Everything shook. Dust came down. Tiles, rocks, it all fell. The sound was tremendous! My heart, it was racing so hard. I heard Rodney shout out in pain, but I couldn't move. I covered my head. And then shaking stopped and it was quiet, so I called again, 'Rodney! Rodney!' and there was no answer. Where could he have gone? I was afraid… for him… so I looked out to find him and that was the last thing I remember."

Zelenka was quiet then, blinking up at the others. "That is all true," he added in case anyone denied him.

"And so where was McKay?" Sheppard asked, wanting to hear everything correctly.

Ford turned to Sheppard. "He was in another alcove, sir. It was much smaller. Probably why Dr. McKay got so banged up while Dr. Zelenka only got hit when he stuck his head out. Something must have fallen loose just then."

Radek laid a hand on his achy head. "I had to find him," Zelenka insisted.

Weir, smiling gratefully, leaned over Zelenka and took his free hand. "Thank you, Radek."

"Now, now!" Beckett chimed, "Let's let him rest. Radek has had a busy day." And he gave the Czech a smile. "Relax and get your strength up. And the rest of you… shoo!"

Burnaby and Powell snorted unhappily, still preferring to believe their previous version of events, but they knew enough about Zelenka to trust his word. The Czech was almost pathologically honest. Kavanagh rolled his eyes and grumbled, knowing that, once again, his hopes had been thwarted. Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest, watching their frustrated movements. When they glanced at him, they came to the instant consensus that it was time to go. They left, slinking and silent.

Radek was already falling asleep, having exhausted himself with his speech. Weir stepped back, to talk to Beckett. Ford was grinning like a loon, obviously happy with the events as Radek presented them. A weight seemed to have lifted from Teyla as well. They both turned to John to see his reaction, but the major was looking down at McKay.

"So," Sheppard stated, "That make more sense?"

McKay blinked, still worn out. He gave John a chagrinned expression as he said, "That might be closer to right."

"Glad to hear you say it," Sheppard responded, and gave him another pinch on the arm.

Huffily, McKay flexed the spot, reaching toward it with the cast-encumbered arm. He glared at Sheppard. "Did you have to keeping doing that?" he griped. "I bruise easily."

_I can see that,_ Sheppard thought, taking in his friend's black-and-blue appearance. Still, he answered, "Figured it was appropriate."

"Hell of a way to treat a sick man," McKay complained, but his annoyed expression smoothed out as he gazed across at the other bed. "He's going to be okay," he stated and this time there was no question in his statement.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed. "You will be, too." _You'd better be, _he added silently. John stood, stretched and said to the others, "What do you say about hitting the mess? I hear that they're serving up some of the pastries from the Capilanos for breakfast."

"You would not want to miss that, Lieutenant," Teyla encouraged.

Ford nodded, smiling broadly at the thought, looking like he needed something to smile about.

"Hey, what about me?" McKay put in. "A little something sweet would be nice."

"Sweet? For you? Somehow 'sweet' and 'McKay' just don't go together," John jibed.

"Come on…"

"You gotta eat what Beckett brings you. I still see that Jell-O waiting."

"But it's yellow…"

"I'll make sure he gets you some red."

"Not just red!"

"Cherry! Okay, I got it. God you're particular." But John smiled as he added, "I'll grab a doughnut or two, see if I can smuggle them in. Maybe he'll let you have something else later, tomorrow maybe, if you behave." They said their goodbyes to McKay and left the room.

McKay watched them go, seeing the major drape an arm over Ford's shoulder. He smiled at the gesture, thinking that the lieutenant needed that, deserved it.

Once they were gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, feeling, finally, as if he might be okay. The aches didn't seem so bad and he seemed to be breathing easier in any case. _Thank God, _he thought, _thank God… I didn't kill them._

"Rodney," a voice called softly from beside him.

McKay turned. "Ah, Zeloynka," he returned. "You're still awake."

The greeting made the Czech sigh. "The device…" he started, his voice soft. "Did they discover its use?"

After blowing out a breath, McKay stated, "They have no answers. You think they'd have it by now, but they keep following misguided theories. They have all the wrong ideas. They really are worthless without me, you know?"

"So, it is still there?" Zelenka asked. "Waiting to be figured out?"

McKay raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Yeah, I'll check it out when I get out of here. If you're up and around, I guess you can join me."

"Two heads are better than one," Zelenka reminded.

"That's a fallacy," McKay returned with a sniff, turning his head and relaxing into his pillow. "Still, assistance wouldn't hurt."

"Naturally," Zelenka returned. "But, the others have already claimed it as their project, no?"

"Well," McKay returned. "I am the head of the science department. That should account for something."

**CHAPTER 26: MAN ON A MISSION**

Sheppard was a man on a mission… two missions. First he'd been called to the infirmary and told that there had been an escape during the night shift. Two days after Radek's recovery there'd been a jailbreak. Both incarcerated scientists had disappeared from beneath the nose of Doctor No-Name. He'd been rather upset by their shenanigans, snapping at Sheppard, saying that he shouldn't have to put up with that sort of behavior from grown men – they were about to be released to their quarters in any case, pending an examination in the morning.

Radek had spent the days resting, and had recovered marvelously. McKay had been eating like a horse, talking nonstop to anyone who walked by, complaining to the nurses, so Beckett was done with him. In a few more hours they would have been released, so why the hell did they take off in the night?

Sheppard had nodded, letting the normally calm MD rant, and slunk away as quickly as possible. He knew that McKay had been getting restless since Zelenka had recovered, and he realized it was only a matter of time before the Canadian was demanding to return to his over-stuffed work schedule – and of course, he'd drag Zelenka along with him. He wasn't one for leaving friends behind.

Sheppard's second mission was a bit of detective work. There had been a theft from Dr. Merritt's lab. Someone, during the night, had managed to get through his security system and remove a piece of Ancient technology that had been under scrutiny. Doctors Burnaby and Powell were upset – especially since their office chairs disappeared at the same time. Funny, but Burnaby and Powell didn't seem to want to make their complaints directly to him. 

In any case, Sheppard had a pretty strong feeling that the incidents were related.

The device, the chairs and the two doctors had been missing in action ever since – and Sheppard had gone in search of them. He'd managed to draft Teyla into assisting him, but Ford had made himself scarce and Sheppard had yet to find him.

They checked the most likely places first -- McKay's lab with its attached living quarters, the lab that Zelenka usually used when he wasn't under McKay's thumb, then Zelenka's quarters. They proved empty. From there all of Atlantis was a possibility… until Sheppard recalled a lab they'd found during a recent exploration.

It was high in one of the towers, far off by a pier, near a transporter, and affording a lovely view of the ocean and the rest of Atlantis. McKay had expressed a certain fondness for the location, but Sheppard had told him that unless he wanted to live as a hermit, he'd better stay closer to the center of the city.

It would be the perfect hideout for a couple of errant scientists.

So, when the transporter doors whooshed open on that uninhabited portion of Atlantis, neither Teyla nor Sheppard were surprised to hear voices, but the intensity was what astounded them. They didn't need the Life Signs Detector to lead them.

"Look, would it kill you to pay attention to what I'm saying?" They heard McKay's voice carrying through the corridors. "Because I'm explaining how this device works and your cockamamie theories are … cockamamie! No, that's not right. Keep your mitts out of there."

Someone answered in a softer voice, and McKay continued, "That would be wrong."

There was some mucking about, a clatter and the sound of something being moved, and McKay spoke again, "It's because I know what I am doing and you do not."

_God,_ Sheppard thought, _who the hell is he fighting with now? Did Burnaby and Powell figure this out already? _And then something started buzzing. Sheppard threw Teyla a concerned look and both hurried along the corridor.

Suddenly the buzz stopped, a yelp sounded, followed by a crash, a clatter, a thud and a concerned shout. _Don't tell me they're throwing punches now! Son of a bitch!_

Teyla and Sheppard broke out into a run. They rounded a corner to reach the lab in time to find Zelenka righting a chair, McKay fussing with the microwave-shaped device, and Aiden Ford unsteadily getting to his feet.

"Ford?" Sheppard stated the name in surprise.

The young soldier looked embarrassed as he dusted at his trousers.

"Major!" McKay responded brightly. He still appeared rather unhealthy, propping himself against the counter with one hand, and the other arm in a sling, but he looked definitely better than before.

Zelenka leaned on the chair once it was settled and nodded happily in their direction. "Good morning, Major," he greeted.

Ford shook his head woefully and muttered, "Glad you showed up."

"What the hell's going on here?" Sheppard asked as he entered the space, looking from the two sick men to Ford.

"I…" Ford started, holding up his hands. "Honestly, sir, I was trying to stop them. I caught them wheeling this chair down the corridor with that thing on it and…" He dropped his hands in frustration. "They shanghaied me."

McKay was humming happily as he poked about at the machine with his one good hand, testing one crystal and then another. "I think we almost got this licked," he commented.

Teyla approached the closer man. "Doctor Zelenka, should you be standing? Doctor Beckett would want you resting." And she gestured to the chair.

Zelenka gave her a prudent grin and shook her head. "No, this is not for me. We have enlisted Lt. Ford to assist us. Lieutenant?" He moved away from the chair to give Ford full access.

Ford crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, "I'm not getting on that thing again until you guys know what the hell you're doing!"

Zelenka rubbed a hand on his head as he shuffled over to McKay. It was obvious that both were still hurting, but the task had taken over any sensibility they might have had. "Have you perfected the initiation sequence yet, hmmm?" Radek asked as he joined the other scientist.

Testily, McKay replied, "I nearly have it now. This one, for certain, is it." He pressed a probe against another crystal, making a disgruntled face. "Okay, the next one."

Laying his arms along the counter, and squinting, Zelenka said, "Try the one above your last attempt. That certainly is the one."

"No it wouldn't be," McKay snapped back.

With a shrug, the Czech said, "I think it is correct."

"Fine… fine. See? Not the right one! Okay? I proved you wrong… again. Now… okay, wait. Hang on…that's interesting."

Ford came to stand beside Teyla and Sheppard as the two scientists leaned into the opened side of the device.

"Ah," Zelenka said, "If you were to wire this crystal to that one and cross over to…"

"I got it! I got it!" McKay retorted. "See? There! Yes! That's it! It has to be it."

"Has to be," Zelenka responded confidently. "It's easier to adhere the wiring if you have two working hands. Let me." And he leaned closer to the machine.

Zelenka finished with messing about, and both men looked up at Ford. They smiled like cats.

"No!" Ford responded. "I will not be your guinea pig again!"

"But you know how to do it," McKay responded. "And I really don't want to go through the training process again with one of these…" and he flipped his hand at Teyla and Sheppard. "… others."

"If you're all so smart, one of you should do it!" Ford replied.

Zelenka and McKay exchanged a look. Neither of them really appeared as if they should be even standing up. They turned toward him. "No," Zelenka stated.

"I'm with him," McKay agreed. "Now, just sit down, lieutenant. This won't take long." He smiled again. "It'll be fun."

"That's what you said the first time," Ford complained, stepping forward with an apparent limp. He looked to Sheppard for support, but John just shrugged. Disheartened, Aiden sat on the roll-around office chair, resting his feet over the wheels, and grasping onto the chair seat with his hands.

Sheppard moved through the room to join the scientists. "So, what's it do?"

"It has nothing to do with the production of ZPMs," McKay haughtily responded.

"Okay," Sheppard responded, "so I ask again, what does it do?"

McKay paused for dramatic effect. "It produces an anti-gravitational field." And he held out his good hand, spreading his fingers in an open-palmed gesture of wonder.

"Uh-huh," Zelenka added. "One that can be directed to a single item." He picked up something that might have been a laser gun if this were a show on the Sci-Fi Channel. The 'gun' had been wired into the newfound device, obviously a new addition. "For instance, a heavy instrument that requires precise movement, on an extremely delicate machine that cannot handle being moved under most circumstances."

"Or a man on an office chair?" Sheppard added.

"Well, yeah," McKay responded. "The site, we believe, was used for construction of equipment that was used to construct ZPMs."

"So it did have something to do with ZPMs," Sheppard put in.

Annoyed, McKay responded, "Only in the most vague terms. ZPMs were never created there. The room with the fortified structure?" he paused seeing if they remembered. "…was probably utilized to build the equipment that would be eventually used to build the containment units within the ZPMs. Tricky business."

"So… it still had something to do with ZPM construction. The information we find there may still be useful," Sheppard tried.

"No," McKay returned succinctly. "Now, Lieutenant, are you ready?"

"No!" Ford growled.

With a sigh, McKay fired it up anyway.

The whirr recommenced, and Teyla stepped back. Radek aimed the 'gun' at the base of the chair, and a beam emanated from the tip of the 'weapon'. McKay made adjustments. Ford closed his eyes and looked miserable. "Hang on, lieutenant," McKay called. And in a moment, he was airborne.

Sheppard broke out in a grin as the soldier rose into the air on the chair, like an angel floating on a cloud. Ford's expression did much to ruin that image though. He bobbed a foot from the ceiling as McKay messed with the controls and Zelenka pointed.

"That is so cool," Sheppard remarked.

"The landings aren't!" Aiden grumbled, already tense and ready for what would come next.

"We have that fixed, Lieutenant," McKay told him. "There were some loose connections, that's all."

"It is all fixed," Zelenka put in, glancing to their handiwork. "Except maybe this here…" And he reached in a finger.

"Don't!" McKay shouted, but it was too late. The beam interrupted and the floating chair suddenly wasn't floating any longer. Ford, already prepared, did his best to leap away from the falling chair and to land in a tuck-n-roll. The chair crashed to the ground, clattering and spinning its wheels.

The scientists looked disappointed, and McKay turned to Zelenka saying, "Don't do that."

"No, you see here?" Zelenka poked at the innards of the device. "This piece was not fully connected. The failure was due to your inability to finish what you started. Only one hand…"

"I was working just fine with one hand until you started messing with it!" McKay snipped back.

Sheppard offered Ford a hand. "You okay?" he asked, getting the young man on his feet.

"Yeah, yeah…" Ford replied, brushing at his pants. "I'm used to it." He lowered his voice as he stated excitedly, "It's really kinda cool… if they can ever get it working right." And Ford grinned like a kid.

They watched as McKay and Zelenka griped at each other, poking and messing about with the device. "Oh," Sheppard stated, "They will." It was good to see Ford smiling again, Sheppard decided. He looked more like himself. "Thanks for watching out for them," Sheppard stated, indicating McKay and Zelenka.

Ford shrugged. "Someone's got to," he responded.

"Definitely," Sheppard replied.

Teyla had walked over to the unwell scientists, found a pair of lab stools that had been in the corner and brought them over. She got the pair sitting without much fuss – in fact, they hardly seemed to notice her movements around them.

Sheppard appraised Ford a moment, then added quietly, "He really appreciated that you sat with him."

"I know," Ford responded quickly.

"He tell you that?"

With a small laugh, Ford responded, "Well, he didn't come right out and say it, but he has his ways." He shrugged. "And I just know it."

"You been staying away from Burnaby and Powell?"

With a snort, Ford just smiled at his CO, saying nothing.

"Now, I think we have it adjusted correctly," McKay stated from his perch. He paused and looked about, as if startled to find himself sitting. But he continued on nonetheless. "Lieutenant, are you ready?"

"I'll give it a try," Sheppard decided, stepping in. "Guess I could use a few new bruises. Haven't had a chance to do any of that stick fighting with Teyla recently."

"I will be next," Teyla decided. "It looks… interesting." And she smiled, obviously intrigued with the idea.

Annoyed with the sudden interest, Ford added, "Wait a minute… I thought I was the test subject!"

"Someone, please get in the chair!" McKay groused.

Sheppard grinned, grabbing the chair first and setting it on its wheels. "Why's it gotta be a chair?" he asked.

"Because," Zelenka started, "This way, we can direct the beam at something other than living flesh."

"Always a good idea," Sheppard decided.

"And the wheels assist in the take off and landing," Zelenka continued. "It allows for some manipulation at low levels." He got a wicked gleam in his eye as he added, "And, if we can perfect the landing, one might be able to …zoom…" and he smacked his hands together, "… down the hallway."

"Why do you need someone in it?" Sheppard continued questioning.

Looking put upon, McKay responded, "Because, until we can fine-tune the regulator, you will need to aid in the steering… lean to the left, the right… Ford can explain it."

"I think I got it," Sheppard replied. "Do we need to use helmets?"

"No, no… we're good," McKay responded assuredly.

Ford ducked his head in memory of an earlier collision with the ceiling.

Letting out a breath, Sheppard nodded. "Okay, fine… let's go." He settled his feet over the wheels of the chair and gripped the seat tightly.

McKay leaned into the device as if he was about to set it off, but he pulled back suddenly. "You said that you were going to bring me some of those pastries… you know… from the Capilanos' home world."

"Ah yes, you did say as much," Radek included. "I heard you."

"Yeah, well," Sheppard started, "I did…I got you a couple of their doughnutty things."

"…and…" McKay led on, looking suspicious.

"You were asleep when I got back." John raised his eyebrows, smugly. "Both of you were asleep. And Beckett wouldn't let me leave them. Something about you not being up to solid foods at the time."

"But I am now!" McKay whined. "So what did you do? You didn't just eat them?"

"No, I didn't _just eat them_. I'd already had a couple and was full."

"Then what did you do? Don't tell me you threw them out?" McKay asked, his face bleak. "I checked and they're all gone in the mess. I mean, I can finally eat decent food and they're gone."

"Neither of us got any," Zelenka added.

Both scientists tried to look angry, but the effect was wasted because by their appearance; neither would be able to do much of anything in combat.

"They're stashed in my room," John told them. "Sealed them in a bag to keep them fresh, in fact."

"Hmmm," McKay returned, lowering his gaze to futz about with the device. "To be devoured during one of your midnight snack attacks," he grumbled.

"Hey, I'll give them to you."

"Maybe you should go get them before we do this thing."

"McKay, I thought I was doing you a favor by being a test subject?" John returned. "Now turn on that beam and make me fly around the room." And he wobbled back and forth on the wheels, impatient for his chance.

"I was rather looking forward to the pastries. Like doughnuts, you said?"

"A little bready for doughnuts," Ford joined in. "Kinda like a mix between that and a bagel, more like a Danish, with a sweet filling – tasted a bit like apricots."

"Kolache?" Zelenka asked. "Oh, I'd kill for a kolache."

McKay nodded toward Zelenka. "See, he'd kill for one. Me, I'd just maim. And personally, I'd prefer the cheese-filled, but definitely not the poppy-seed. Now, please. If you don't go along and fetch us our kolaches, my one good hand may slip on the controls due to fatigue brought on by manly hunger. Who knows what would happen?" He flicked his hand about to demonstrate.

"Could be messy," Zelenka added.

Sheppard scowled.

"It is true, Major," Teyla put in, grabbing Sheppard by the wrist and prying his hand from the chair. "You would not want them to be incapacitated any more than their current state."

Sheppard glared at the Athosian, feeling she was horning in on his chance to hover like Aladdin on his magic carpet, but she tipped her head toward McKay and Zelenka. Radek's head was bowed and he squinted against a growing headache. McKay was holding his good arm over the sling and was looking rather pale.

"Okay then," Sheppard revised as he stood. "Why don't we all head down there and I can split them between the two of you."

"Excellent idea!" Zelenka interjected.

"Excellent for you," McKay grumbled. "They were originally both for me."

"You misunderstood me," Sheppard responded. "They were to share. You shouldn't make assumptions, McKay. Come on, let's go."

"Oh, the thing…" Ford said, pointing to the box. "We should bring it with us."

"Hmmm…" McKay touched his lips as he thought. "Burnaby and Powell might get their hands on it."

"Ah, but we've already discovered the secret of it," Zelenka reminded. "We've beaten them to the solution."

"Ah yes," McKay returned, and then nodded, okay with that situation. "Very well then, Lt. Ford? Might you pick it up for us? You seem capable of carrying it. Me, you know, the arm." And he tugged at his sling.

"And I am a bit… dizzy," Zelenka declared with a grin, but as he stepped down from the stool, he tottered and blinked in surprise.

McKay jumped down immediately, as if he could offer some help, but his own weariness had caught up to him, and he had to grip the counter to keep from plummeting to the ground.

"You need to sit," Teyla proclaimed as she grabbed the roll-around chair and brought it around to the other side of the counter. "It is unfortunate that there is only one chair," she stated, "otherwise, we would be able to bring both of you back in this manner."

"Oh," McKay stated, looking about ready to pass out. "There's another one is over by the transporter." He waved his hand to demonstrate the direction.

"Yeah," Ford concurred. "I'll go get it. What were you doing with two chairs anyway? We only used the one to move the device and to do the tests."

Zelenka and McKay exchanged a glance. Radek answered, "We couldn't take just Dr. Burnaby's and leave Powell's."

"Figured we had to piss 'em both off, equally," McKay filled in with a grin.

Sheppard shook his head, and gave Ford a nod to get the other chair and bring it back to the room. Soon they were headed back to the inner hub of Atlantis, with Ford carrying the device, and Teyla and Sheppard wheeling the done-in scientists back in the ungainly chairs of Burnaby and Powell.

"Think we should dump them in the ocean?" Sheppard asked as they passed an open balcony, revealing the still-dark sea.

"What?" McKay cried, dropping his feet to brake their movement and turning to the major. He grimaced as his ribs pulled.

"The chairs… the chairs!" Sheppard enlightened.

"Oh," McKay rejoined. "Hmmm, no. It would be more fun hiding them."

"We hide them on that ledge near the ceiling," Zelenka added, half-a-hall's length ahead of them.

"Come on," Sheppard grumbled. "Get your feet up. Let's go."

McKay lifted his feet, putting them over the wheels again and letting Sheppard shove him onward. "Yes, yes…there's enough room, and they won't see them up there. They're not the kind to think outside the box… or off floor level," Rodney muttered. "Of course the anti-grav should help a lot. Might need cables to keep them in place." He grinned at that idea, and moved his good hand, as if already fiddling with cables. "Highly possible. We would need help though. Not sure if Radek and I will be up to it for a while."

"You look for trouble, don't you?" Sheppard responded. He moved his hands from the chair back and rested them on McKay's shoulders. "And you look for ways to get me in trouble."

"Well, of course," McKay responded, turning his head to look at John, curious about the gesture. "What else would I do with my free time?"

"Should take up a hobby," Sheppard told him. "I was thinking, maybe we could rig up some sort of a boat – go sailing sometime."

Pausing a moment, McKay told him, "Sounds possible. Lt. Ford, what do you think?"

Looking over his shoulder, Sheppard caught sight of Ford, easily carrying the device and smiling broadly. He responded, "Sounds like a great time."

Sheppard nodded at the young man, glad to see him feeling better. Yeah, it had been a piss-poor week for all of them, and there was some yet retribution to be doled out. Powell and Burnaby would probably have more than a couple missing chairs to deal with. And the look Ford gave him told Sheppard that Aiden would be right there with him. The best part about it was that they hardly had to do anything to get the scientists in a tizzy. He only had to fix them with a glare and let them assume the worst.

Assholes. They wouldn't be going through the Gate again anytime soon. Let them stay in their little labs for a while and worry about the retribution if it were ever to fall on them. They were already shuddering like scared rabbits.

Sheppard shoved the scientist onward on Powell's office chair. He kept his hands on McKay's shoulders, happy that he still had the ability to do so. It was good to have things back to normal. In spite of how things turned, it looked like everything was going to be okay. The misunderstandings had been cleared up.

_Stupid son of a bitch_, he thought as he regarded the physicist. _Believing the shit they were slinging around. Didn't have the common sense to figure they were wrong. Wouldn't have happened if I were here, _he decided. _Won't happen again,_ he pledged as they moved along.

Ahead of them, Zelenka signaled a right turn, and Sheppard shook his head in amusement as Teyla didn't understand. "Right!" Sheppard helpfully shouted.

And they were back in the more familiar passageways of Atlantis, arriving before the morning crowds. They had plenty of time to put things back where they belonged (or didn't belong) before the other scientists were up and around.

"Ah," Rodney stated as he was rolled along. "It's good to be home." He half-turned to see Sheppard. "Think you could speed it up a bit, Jeeves? They're getting ahead of us," he commented.

Sheppard considered what he might do to the scientist, but thought better of it. Tomorrow was another day, and maybe once the physicist healed up a bit, he'd feel better about shoving the chair and its occupant down a stairwell.

"Yes, it's good to be home," John commented, stepping one foot onto a rear wheel, and digging in with the other. Forcefully, he shoved off. He smiled when McKay let out a girlish scream and they careened toward Zelenka and Teyla, and behind them, Ford laughed. "Yup… good to be home."   
-------------------  
THE END- _There you go. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you liked it, okay?_  
NT


End file.
